


Huntsman

by LadyNocheEterna



Series: Cobwebs in the Archives [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archivist!Sasha, Lukas!Martin, Multi, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Web!Jon, dark!Tim, urban fantasy elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 85,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27569638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNocheEterna/pseuds/LadyNocheEterna
Summary: "I almost feel bad for Elias", she admits."What, why?""Because he thinks he is still in control..."Chapter XII. Planning Stages
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Series: Cobwebs in the Archives [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867330
Comments: 35
Kudos: 70





	1. Let's Rewind...

**Friday, 16 Th of February, 2018…**

The streets of London are packed, as expected from the hour, which signals it’s time for lunch. The man dressed in a casual button up and slacks that seem mismatched against his combat boots and his leather jacket, makes his way along the crowd. Eventually, when the crowd thins, the man reaches a house, or it looks like a house, on the outside at least. He crosses the fence and knocks on the door, where a golden plaque reads: _Tonner and Hussain, private investigations_.

The woman that answers has short cropped blond hair and fierce brown eyes, her smile a bit crooked when she recognises her guest. She steps aside to let him and takes him to her office.

“So, what can I do for you, Sims?” she asks, as she sits on her chair arms behind her head, leaving the office’s door open.

Jon leaves his jacket on the back of the chair and sits across from her; he proceeds to roll up his sleeves. The office has a cosy warm to it, unlike the winter weather outside.

“I just wanted to know how you and Basira were doing.”

“We are…” she sighs heavily, moving to rest her forearms on the desk in front of her. “We are together, so it’s good. It’s been… strange leaving the force, but Basira had wanted to leave since the Brodie case, and, well, after how _helpful_ they were when it came to the Unknowing, I guess I finally saw what you did…”, he cocks an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. She sighs again. “The precinct… it _was_ making _me_ worse, it didn’t dull the call of my blood, but rather it _heightened_ it. I guess, I- I didn’t want to see it, and I keep making excuses, like when I told you that the resources they had could help us.”

There’s a silent pause. Jon is not good at reading people, despite the patron he serves, but he knows better than to tell Alice “Daisy” Tonner herself _I told you so_ , like she likes to say, he is dumb but not stupid. So, instead, he places a hand, palm up in the middle of the desk, a silent offer. The woman takes it. 

“I’m glad you realised, Daisy” he says, smiling softly, “that you realised before it was too late, before you lost yourself.”

“Even if I had, I know you and Basira would have brought me back” she answers, with the same smile, before it turns smug. “Just because I can now manage my blood better doesn’t mean I can’t break this noodle arm of yours in at least five different ways, you know that, right?” she teases, the fingers of her free hand tracing the spider tattooed on his forearm. It tickles a bit.

“Yes, I’m aware” he turns serious, “can I ask you a non-related question?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I- I think someone is following me” the fingers on his forearm freeze, so he quickly backtracks, “maybe it’s nothing? I mean, I thought that maybe it was Elias, trying to mess with me? Problem is that it’s always at the same time, when I go with some of the others to get lunch, it has happened when I went with Melanie or Sasha, but never when I went with Martin…”

Elias doesn’t have the same _decorum_ others avatars may have, so it may not matter to him that Martin is a member of the Lukas family, most powerful avatars of their world, and it’s not like he has fully pledged himself to the Lonely for Elias to consider him a threat. Then why is it only when he is with him that Jon doesn’t feel _watched_? No, it has to be someone else, someone who recognises that Martin is a Lukas, but doesn’t know he doesn’t serve.

“Have you told the others?”

“Not yet” he admits, and Daisy frowns, letting go of his hand to cross her arms. “Don’t look at me like that, I was going to, but I wanted a…uh, _professional_ opinion first”, she nods, so he continues. “It does make sense to be Elias, because I’m sure he knows I’m planning something and that it is against him, but he surely must not think I’m so damn incompetent to plan against him while I’m out getting lunch of all things. Also, why only observe me when I’m out with the girls and not while I’m out with Martin?”

“Maybe he doesn’t see Lukas as a threat?” she offers and he nods along, it’s exactly what he was thinking, “Elias is married to Peter, after all. Betraying Elias means betraying Peter and I don’t think Lukas would be down with that” Jon chuckles, “what?”

“Martin has told me he and his cousins are trying to get Peter _to see the light_ , they made him a Grindr account and everything, trust me, Daisy, he is all down for this.”

“Alright, alright” she says, shaking her head, smile on her lips, “have you been feeling followed at any other time besides lunch?”

“No”, he says, after a few thoughtful moments, “I took Annabelle shopping last weekend but I did not feel a single glance on me the whole time. It makes sense he would think she is not involved in whatever I’m planning, I guess, even if he is wrong. I also visited Georgie and the Admiral on Wednesday, but I didn’t feel it either.”

“And when you leave the institute?”

“I have been using the tunnels, just in case, and leaving the motorcycle at home, I’m taking the tube instead”, she nods, “I guess I’m worried, what if it’s not actually Elias?”

“Then who would be, Jon? Peter Lukas?” she offers, teasing smile on the face and notices that Jon relaxes slightly, hint of a smile in his lips. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, you know, something regarding a certain _prince_ , perhaps?” she cocks an eyebrow, but he just stares at her in confusion. “Oh, come on, Sims! We both know that young prince Lukas makes that little cobweb-covered heart of yours _beat_ ”, Jon doesn’t really _blush_ , it’s barely noticeable in his skin unless it’s a heavy blush, so if Daisy can’t see it, then she is clearly not teasing hard enough.

“Anyways, I didn’t come here for you to tease me, _Alice_ ” he chides, changing the subject, “have you eaten lunch yet?”

“No” she answers, dropping the subject, at least for now, “was waiting for Basira to get back with some information for a case we are working on, I think it’s another unfaithful spouse” she rolls her eyes as she gets up.

As if on cue, the front door opens, revealing a woman in a hijab, carrying several folders and a satchel.

“Oh, hey, Jon” she greets, smiling, “are you joining us for lunch?”

* * *

When Jon gets back to the archives he notices that the place is very cold for some reason, damn Elias and his stingy tendencies. He better put some better heaters soon or he will be tempted to use his lighter to create a bonfire, the others surely will approve. He knows the cold temperature is used to preserve the documents, but it’s not like Elias does care about organization, just look at the archives! Speaking of documents, he hears murmurs from Document Storage, so he, being the curious person that he is, approaches slowly.

He has been told several times through the years and by several people that, if he hadn’t been claimed by the Web at such a young age, he would probably have become a Beholding avatar, because of his curiosity and his thirst for knowledge.

“I’m just saying-…” says a voice, strangely cheerful.

“I know what you’re saying, but I don’t have to agree”, Martin voice answers, gentle but firm. “Just because this is not the way that _you_ serve, it doesn’t mean it’s not a possible way, you yourself said that we all serve in our own ways.”

Jon notices, now that he is close to Document Storage, that he is ankle deep in a thick white fog… he freezes. Spiders don’t do well in the cold, and he rather not anger whoever is in the other side of that door.

“Oh, look at you, quoting _me_!” the voice says, a hint of a chuckle in it, and Jon realises the one speaking is no other than Peter Lukas, Martin’s uncle. No wonder it took him so long to recognise him, he had only spoken to the man _once_ in his life and it wasn’t a very long or clear conversation.

For a few minutes, there’s silence.

“Will you go to the manor tomorrow?”

“No, Martin, I don’t think so…” something heavy seems to hang in the air, “but I could go… I could go tomorrow if you promise to think about what we just discussed.”

“…alright. I will think about it.”

Sensing the conversation might be drawing to an end, Jon scrambles to the breakroom. It’s not like he is afraid of Peter or something like that… that would be ridiculous! He, however, has a healthy respect of the man; no one wants to mess with a member of the all-mighty Lukas family. Leaving his satchel on one of the chairs of the tiny table, he sets the kettle and prepares two mugs; one is his own, with a cartoonish black cat playing with a turquoise ball of yarn that was a gift from Sasha when they started at the archives, the other is a white one that reads _Don’t ask me to think straight!_ in blocky rainbow coloured letters, this one is Martin’s and was gift from Tim.

For a second, he wonders where Melanie and Sasha are, but then realises that it makes sense for Peter to be around if they’re out and Martin is _alone_. He doesn’t exactly _dislike_ Peter Lukas, but then again, he… um, _associates_ with Elias of all people. Jon understands that Peter needs to feel isolated to serve his patron, but _Jesus_.

He is filling the mugs when he feels that he is being _watched_ , but not in the way that Elias would watch him. He looks over his shoulder and finds Martin leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed and smiling slightly.

“I was going to make some tea but you beat me to it, I guess” he says, and Jon can’t help but smile.

“It’s only fair, I guess” he shrugs, repeating his words back to him, he hands him his mug. “You’re always making for everyone else.”

“Alright, that’s nice, thank you, Jon” he says, gifting him another of that smiles that shines bright like the sun, before taking his mug. “So” he continues casually, pouring some sugar into his tea, “how much did you hear?”

His first instincts say _Lie_ , but he had once promised both to himself and Martin that he would _never_ lie to him. It was a bit after the Prentiss attack, when he revealed to him what he was. A part of him could not simply stand for the redhead to look at him differently after the reveal, for Martin, so open and honest, to look at him like he is waiting to be lied to. Martin who smiles at him as if he doesn’t serve the patron of manipulation and deceit, Martin who the only lie that Jon has heard from him is that his surname is Blackwood (it’s not entirely a lie, since that’s his mother’s maiden name, but legally speaking, his surname is Lukas).

“Not much” he admits, “just you trying to convince your uncle to go to Kent?”

“He doesn’t visit Nana as often as he should; I’m starting to think I’m the only one who visits her…, I kind of _am_ the only one, but still.”

“I mean, you guys _do_ worship the Eldritch Fear God of Loneliness, don’t you?”

“Not the point, Jon” he chides, before taking a sip. “Oh, hey, this tastes delicious!”

And there’s that beautiful smile again that makes Jon smile back.

“Are you free on Monday?” he asks suddenly. Martin blinks at him. “We could go for lunch, you and me, I mean.”

Martin takes a moment to just look at him, and then he tilts his head.

“Like a date?”

“It can be a date if you want to…” _no, that makes it sound like I don’t want it to be,_ Jon mentally chides himself. “I very much intended it as one.”

Martin blushes an adorable pink and smiles shyly.

“R-right…” he clears his throat, “th-there’s a new place that opened up a few blocks away from here, if you’re interested? It’s, ah, Italian cuisine.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, you ridiculous man, it’s a _yes_ ”, he says smiling.

They stay in comfortable silence for a while, sipping their teas and occasionally smiling at each other when they catch the other staring. Martin can feel his cheeks warming up every time they do so. He can always blame it on the temperature of the tea, for some reason the water is _scalding_? Huh, he didn’t know Jon took the tea _this_ hot. Good thing he thought about blowing on it before taking the first sip.

On the other side of the tiny table, Jon is silently praying he still has taste buds by the time he is done with that mug. He could, in theory, leave the mug aside and wait for the tea to cool down until it’s a drinkable temperature, but Martin doesn’t seem to mind, so he shouldn’t either.

After a while, laughter rings from the stairs that lead into the archive, and Jon hears Melanie calling them both out. The man with the spider tattoo leaves the mug on the table without sparing a second glance at it; the redhead, on the other hand, takes one last sip before doing the same. Jon feels a tinge of pride that Martin likes his tea, despite the temperature.

Melanie and Sasha had gone out for lunch, their usual routine, but they have come back with someone else this time.

“Guess who is back!” Melanie bellows, arms stretched at her side, as if showing off the person next to her, who laughs at her antics.

“Tim, Tim, Tim!” Martin chants, rushing to the man for a hug, he is already waiting for him with open arms.

“Tim?” Jon says, surprised, at seeing his friend, who, let’s rewind, he hasn’t seen in _four months_. “When did you got back to the UK?”

“It’s nice to see the both of you too” he says, releasing Martin, Jon steps closer and offers a hand for a shake, but Tim grips him by the wrist and pulls him into a tight hug. “Oh, come here! Ah, I can still lift you off your feet!” he exclaims in delight, doing just that and making Jon let out something that is _definitely_ not a surprised squeak. Tim immediately puts him down when he hears his back crick.

“Jesus” Sasha says. “You should get that checked out.”

“Anyways” Tim continues, “answering your question, I came back yesterday, but I didn’t come over right away because I needed to go see my mum so she can see I’m fine, also I looked like a mess, I need to look pretty to come see you all, of course”, is the matter-of-factly explanation he gives.

“And the beard?” Sasha teases, poking Tim’s now furry cheek. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Well, I was in Norway for four months, Sash. I think I’m going to keep it, though. I think it suits me.”

“It does” she approves. Sasha doesn’t usually like bearded men, but she could make an exception for Tim, “gives you a… sophisticated air.”

“You’re too generous” Jon intervenes, making everyone laugh.

“So!” Tim continues, looking around, “Melanie and Sasha had already updated me on the fact that, _goodness_ , we have a filling system now, thanks to Martin. What else did I miss?”

“Seriously, he worked in the library, how come it took us this long to get a filling system?” Melanie complains, turning to the only other woman in the room, “what do you have to say in your defence, Archivist?”

“It has been a busy year?” she offers, smile on her face. She turns to Tim, “so, let’s go into the breakroom” she prompts, taking Tim by the arm and guiding him, everyone follows and they sit, Tim in between Sasha and Melanie on the couch and Martin and Jon on the tiny table, the latter is glad to find his tea now at drinkable temperature, “what’s the name of the place you went to, again?”

“Ny-Alesund” Tim repeats, leaning back a placing his arms over the back of the couch, settling comfortably, “cold as hell and good thing I didn’t take my kayak, cause I would have frozen to death.”

“But did you find them?” Jon interrupts him, “did you find the other avatar?”

“Yes, she taught me a thing or two” he tells them proudly, “we did a… let’s call it a _test_ and Manuela said I was ready, but she said that if I told anyone what it was, she would kill me and Timothy Stoker is no snitch! I guess she didn't like me much at first, but I grew on her, by the end I think she even managed to like me a little bit!” he jokes.

“Manuela? As in Manuela Dominguez?”

“You know her, Jon?” Martin asks this time.

“Not personally, but she is very well known in our world, she was Maxwell Rayner’s right hand while the People’s Church of the Divine Host still existed”, he explains.

“Huh, that explains this” Tim said, taking a small silver chain that had been hanging around his neck and fully pulls it out of his clothes for his friends to see a very elegant silver pendant in the shape of a hand with lines resembling a closed eye in the palm. “She said it was a farewell gift before I _go run back to my Archivist,_ not bad, huh?”

* * *

His keys clink in the ceramic pot of the entrance when Jon carelessly throws them into it, before removing his leather jacket. The inside of his flat is warm and cosy, and he can hear noise from the kitchen, so his sister is probably home already. He ventures to greet her, but notices a certain… smell permeating the air. It’s not a _bad_ smell, far from it, it kind of smells like the kitchen of his childhood home in Oxford.

Annabelle is in the kitchen, with his back to him, adjusting the temperature of the oven and the timer. On the kitchen table is a plate of desserts, there’s a fluffy Victoria Sponge cake, flapjacks, and… huh, if he didn’t know better he would swear that’s his father’s recipe of bread and butter pudding.

“Hey, Jon” Annabelle says, noticing him there. “How was work?”

“Fine” he answers simply, “are you having a bake sale, Anna?”

“Ah? Oh, no, I’m just taking advantage of the fact I didn’t have work today and I’m preparing for tomorrow, remember that I told you my friends are coming over?” he nods, casually leaning against the doorframe “well, Jared refuses to tell me anything about his new girlfriend but he said he would accept some of my Victoria Sponge cake as a bribe, then I figured I was already here so I made some flapjacks with the leftover oatmeal, I also making some honey biscuits because Oliver said he liked the ones I made last time”, he nods again, trying to contain his smile, when Annabelle gets in one of her baking moods, she doesn’t stops until there’s no flour, sugar or eggs left in the flat. She points to the countertop, where the pudding is cooling down. “That one is for you, though, I did promise that I was going to make some for you, but for heaven’s sake, _wait_ for it to cool down this time.”

“I drank boiling tea today and I haven’t recovered, I think we’re good on that front.” 

“You _what_ ”

“Hand me a fork, I will try to see if my taste buds are still functional.”

No one would have taken Raymond Fielding, known servant of The Web, for a man who could actually cook, let alone bake, but most of the recipes Jon and Anna know are ones they learned from him, he loved teaching them all sorts of things, after all, including cooking. Jon mourns the fact that he can never make his bread and butter pudding taste the same as the one his father used to make when they lived in Hill Top Road, Annabelle, however, manages to do an amazing approximation.

Despite his sister’s protests, he gets hold of a fork and tries some of the pudding. It’s still warm, but not enough to deter him from his goal and it _does_ taste amazing and he tells Annabelle so, making her smile.

“You can join us tomorrow for tea, you know.”

“No, I have to help Gerry with… stuff.”

“Stuff”, she repeats, cocking an eyebrow. “Fine, you do you, but I can’t guarantee there will be leftovers.”

“Fine by me, I get the pudding all to myself” he smiles, “oh, hey, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Does it have to do with why you have been such a grump lately?”

“I- you- what? Have you talked with Daisy today?”

“No, I simply know you _too_ well, dear brother” the nickname is intoned in a mixture of teasing and fondness. “Oh, speaking of talking, Michael told me to say hi to you!”

Jon isn’t really surprised at the mention of the avatar of the Spiral, because, _apparently_ , the Distortion’s door opening to reveal either Helen or Michael like a Russian roulette of madness is a thing that happens now. He almost couldn’t believe it when his sister told him, especially since he himself hasn’t seen Michael, but Annabelle seems happy about it, so he shrugs it off. Michael is to Annabelle what Gerry is to him, after all.

“Remember that you promised to help me with… ah, what is that you and your friends call my schemes?”

“Meals”, he answers simply, shrugging.

“Yeah, meals” she repeats, the mixture of teasing and fondness is back on her tone, it makes Jon’s lips twitch into a smile. “Anyways, I’m going to put the kettle on.”

Jon and Anna don’t always see things eye to eye, which is understandable, they have differing opinions on a myriad of topics, from things as trivial as pizza toppings or who is the worst baker of The Great British Bake-Off to more serious things, like something Georgie has labelled as _ethical consumption of fear_ , because Annabelle and her friends don’t have the same reserves as Jon and the others when it comes to serving, often referring to her brother and his friends as _vegan avatars_.

He knows she doesn’t get it, but he also appreciates the effort she makes in trying to.

“Alright, I’m going to serve myself some more pudding while you do that” she snorts at his cheerful demeanour, once he has a small plate and his fork, leans against the countertop and continues, “so, what is it that you need?”

“Hold up, let me make you a list…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!! As a friend of mine said, _"the cobwebs are back on the archives"_! I tried to make this first chapter entretaining for both new and old readers alike and I hope I suceeded!
> 
> I was so excited to share this with you all, you have no idea (unless we know each other on Discord, then you do know), and speaking of which: **Shoutout to my lovely friends over at the _All Of Us Are Here_ Discord server**, love y'all!
> 
> And hey... I missed you <3


	2. None but the Lonely hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Soundtrack:** Clair de lune (Debussy), None but the lonely hearts (Tchaikovsky), Novocaine (Fall Out Boy)

**Saturday, February 17 th, 2018: Moorland Manor, Kent**

The soft notes of the piano echo through the spacious drawing room, their sweet sound mixing with that of the pitter-patter of the heavy raindrops hitting the gigantic glass windows partially covered by thick velvet curtains and the creaking of the wood in the fireplace. The youngest occupant of the room looks at the coffee table, where the steam from the tea cups curls up in the air like ethereal tendrils, next to a yet untouched, but inviting plate of fine pastries and baked sweets.

He looks at his great uncle Nathaniel sitting in the armchair and smoking a cigar, which makes him wince, a man his age shouldn’t smoke and let alone that much. His gaze turns towards the man currently at the piano, playing the beautiful melody they’re listening to, and he can’t help but smile, Peter is here because _he_ asked him to, he did that. Peter is not often here, he is usually away at sea or at home with his husband, but today, at Martin’s request he is here.

Martin likes coming to the manor to visit his grandmother, who is currently sitting next to him in the couch, hands folded in her lap. She looks relaxed, with her eyes closed and her lips barely upturned in the hint of a smile. Martin can’t help but think she looks _younger_.

When you’re born into the Lukas family, you’re not only expected to serve the family patron, but you are also expected to, in Nathaniel’s words, _not be an uncultured peasant_ , which translates to most of the family members being well-versed in what are considered as upper-class subjects, he guesses, even though he does n0t get what it’s so bad about not knowing how to play an instrument. Peter took piano lessons as a child, and Martin’s cousins are also excellent musicians, Natalia does an amazing rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy in the violin, if the little show she gave them last Christmas is anything to go by and Michaela plays the harp like she is a cherub.

“That was beautiful, Peter” Odeta praises with a soft smile still on her face. Peter doesn’t answer her; he just nods and hums uncompromisingly. Well, still an improvement from the usual, for some weird reason the captain doesn’t look at his own mother in the face, but never mind, the last time he saw them together in the same room was for Christmas. The woman tucks a stray lock of once auburn hair behind her ear and reaches over the coffee table to take a sheet of paper that she hands over to Martin. “Can you please read this, _dragul meu_? Maybe while your uncle plays that song that I like?”

Oh, Martin can’t really say no to those baby blues eyes that look so much like his own and that smile that metaphorically lights up his world, especially not when the woman calls him _dragul meu_. He answers her with a smile, taking the paper and then looking at Peter, who shrugs and starts playing to get into tune.

Martin is not a musician by any means, he never got the training for any instrument and he would be lucky if he can play the triangle, but there’s something that he knows he can do.

“ _None but the Lonely hearts can know my sadness, alone and parted…_ ” he starts, pausing to look at Odeta, who has clasped her hands over her chest as she stares at him like he is something precious. He is not the only member of the Lukas family with a passion for poetry. The song Peter is playing was inspired in a Russian poem that Odeta adores and one which English translation written by Goethe is in the paper that he is holding. “ _Far from joy and gladness, heaven’s boundless arch I see spread out above me. Oh, what a distance does drear to one who loves me…”_

He may be no musician, but he can recite poetry in a way that would leave most readers to shame. Plus, he is sure no one can make his grandmother smile like _he_ can while he recites.

“ _…from joy and gladness, alone and parted far, from joy and gladness, my senses fail. A burning fire devours me, none but the lonely heart can know my sadness”_ he finishes, allowing for Peter to finish the melody.

“Wonderful”, Odeta approves, her tone and proud smile feels like a caress to his heart. “Peter, come sit with us, your tea is getting cold, and you haven’t tried any of the pastries yet.”

Surprisingly, Peter obeys, sitting in the armchair opposite to Nathaniel, next to Martin.

For a few moments, there’s silence, something he has grown accustomed to, even if it unnerved him when he first joined the family and was scared of doing something wrong, it is normal here for the meals to be silent. So, he takes a slice of fluffy Angel cake that tastes _heavenly_ , before following with a sip of the now less hot tea.

“How’s work, Martin?” Nathaniel asks, having left his cigar in the ashtray to take a sip of the fine china cup. He is probably asking more as a formality than anything else, even if he is the one who runs the family finances he doesn’t really care much for what goes down at the Magnus Institute.

“Oh, it’s fine, we finally got a filling system, uh, I’m the one who came up with it!” he tells him proudly, Nathaniel nods. “Other than that it’s been, uh, uneventfully fine.”

“And how’s the boyfriend?”

“What boyfriend?”

“Odeta did mention to me that there’s a young man you’re seeing?” he offers, Martin can only blink at him and _then_ his brain catches up.

“Oh, uh, we… we’re not boyfriends, who told you that?”

“I thought you were already dating, you talk about him so much” Odeta says, finger against her lip, and he can feel his cheeks starting to heat up, but he covers that by drinking more tea. “Oh, don’t tell me he doesn’t know about your feelings!” he doesn’t answer, but it seems his grandmother doesn’t need him to. “Aw, Martin…”, there’s a pause, before she adds, “when can we meet him?”

Martin almost chokes on his tea.

“What…? You… you want to meet him? Nana, you hate interacting with people!” Peter and Nathaniel scoff in agreement.

“Only with people I don’t know, and you talked about him so much that it’s like I already know him! I bet he is very handsome” she thinks out loud, and Nathaniel laughs under his breath, making the woman turn to him, “what? In this house we like handsome men, or you think I married your brother because I liked his _company_?”

Nathaniel puts his teacup down and stares at her, while Martin tries to muffle his giggles with his hand at his stunned expression; Peter has no such reservations and is fully laughing out loud.

“Do you really think that we’re that superficial?” Peter wonders.

“Well, I wouldn’t have said it otherwise, and it’s not like I’m wrong, Elias _is_ a very good looking man…” Martin lets out an affronted gasp and opens his mouth to retort, but Odeta quickly continues before he can do so, “until he opens his mouth, that’s it. He is… what have you called him _dragul meu_?”

“A rat bastard man”, he says, unbeknownst to Elias, that what the Archives team calls him behind his back.

“A rat bastard man”, she agrees, nodding.

“Excuse you?” Peter says, he is not exactly _angry_ , Martin realises, Peter doesn’t really do anger, but he does look annoyed, and, even if he is staring at him, he knows he is talking to the both of them. “I have seen that spider of yours and I’m not impressed.”

“Spider…?” Nathaniel repeats, and then he looks at his great nephew, “that bloke you like is _Web_?”

“…maybe?”

“Oh, leave it, Nathaniel, anything _dragul meu_ wants, _dragul meu_ shall have” Odeta declares, smiling sweetly at her grandson and Martin can’t help but smile back as he takes another sip of tea. “Should we prepare a marriage proposal?”

Martin chokes on tea for the second time today, god, this woman is going to kill him.

“Nana!”

“Oh, be quiet, I’m just playing around. I would never give my little prince away like that!” she takes a sip of her teacup before coldly adding: “if he wants your hand in marriage, he better come _begging_ for it on his hands and knees.”

“You never lose your touch, Odeta” Nathaniel teases. “Now I feel bad for that young man.”

“Do you really?” Martin questions his tone and face betraying his disbelief.

“Well, you got me there, lad.”

“I bet he is lovely, more tea, anyone?”

* * *

_In the truly gruesome do we trust, I will always land on you like a sucker punch. Singing I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare. I am your worst; I am your worst nightmare…_

While some cities build themselves up and high enough to touch the sky, some build themselves _down_. Such is the case of London, which possesses a myriad of tunnels that serve a lot of purposes, utilities, the underground, the railways, etc. Jon muses as he lights himself another cigarette and listens to the music coming from Gerry’s mobile phone, that it’s no wonder that their world manages to remain so well hidden.

For many, including him, this world is vast and unending, but it’s only a speck in comparison to the _normal_ world. Their history can only be traced back so far and their traditions, their rules are less than basics compared to those of the human world. Culture surely is a factor, he once had a very nice conversation with Tim where they agreed that the fact that Britain has a monarchy is the reason their world seemed the need to designate a royal family (the Lukases, and the Fairchilds in a lesser extent) and that cultural differences are probably a thing for those belonging to their world. _Just you wait, I’m going to use institute money and write a paper about this_ , he had said, _Robert Smirke, who?_ Jon could only laugh at his antics.

_If you knew, knew what the bluebirds sing at you, you would never sing along… Cast them out cause this is our culture, this new flocks are nothing but vultures._

The music reverberates beautifully in this tunnel, this one in particular was the one where the first underground of London was constructed, but progress has made it go into the disuse decades ago, well after it’s reformation as air-raid shelters in World War II that’s it, this is also one of the many places their world can hide. Jon and Gerry come here often, it had become sort of _their_ place, the Goth had showed it to the spider when he first moved to London with his sister.

_Because they took our love and filled it up, filled it up with Novocaine and now I’m just numb. Now I’m just numb, don’t mind me, I’m just a son of a gun. So don’t stop, don’t stop until your heart goes numb. I don’t feel a thing for you!_

The reason for today’s visit is the usual: book burning. Gerry takes very seriously their reputation as a book hunter, especially when it comes to Leitner books. Jon has a treat for them today; he had brought a plastic container filled to the brim with books Leitner had been reacquiring from his original collection from the institute. Right now, Gerry, armed with their usual thick leather gloves is sorting through them, trying to guess by name and appearance alone to what entity they are tied to.

There are two books Jon has put in safe keeping: _The Seven Lamps of Architecture_ and _A Disappearance_ , both ones Leitner had in his possession at all times, they’re locked up in two separate places with people Jon really trusts and covered in cobwebs for good measure. Elias would never suspect where they are.

_I’m just a problem that doesn’t want to be solved, so could you please hold your applause? Take this sideshow and all it’s freaks and turn it into the silver screen dream… Singing I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare. I am your worst; I am your worst nightmare…_

“Hey, Jon?” Gerry calls, shaking him from his thoughts, they had stopped rifling through the books they were piling up next to them, “did you go through these books?”

“No? You said, and I quote, _Jon, for the love of my patron and everything sacred_ ** _don’t_** _touch the bloody books until I take a look at them_ , end quotes” his friend rolls their eyes, “why?”

“I only said that because you’re too damn curious for your own damn good, I swear sometimes you’re more Beholding than Web, anyways” he continues before the spider can protest, “I’m only asking because… well, look for yourself.”

Jon tilts his head when Gerry offers him a book, it only takes a couple seconds for him to recognise it, his eyes widen. He takes it from them, Gerry wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t safe, and he simply stares at it for a few moments. _A Guest for Mr. Spider_ , the spidery scrawl of the cover reads. The book is almost as he remembers, if somehow smaller than the one in his memories.

“Good Lord, I can’t believe it” a few silent moments pass by and Jon realises that Gerry is expecting an answer. “I think I may keep this one.”

They only nod, before grabbing an old and small metal container they often use for the burning and lights up the first book, probably a Corruption one if the smell is anything to go by, he winces as Gerry leaves the book to turn into ashes and sits back next to him. He rest his head on their shoulder, making them chuckle.

“Are you cold?”

“A bit yeah” he admits. No need to explain he gets cold easily, they already know. “So, in other news” he continues, cigarette still hanging from his mouth, Gerry reaches over and takes it from him, taking a drag, “I think I already planned how are we going to do the big reveal of the plan to Tim, Martin and Sasha.”

“I’m all ears, do tell.”

“Alright, so we can go to Oxford this week, to my father’s house, that way Elias won’t be able to, um, overhear our conversation, let’s say he will be forced to… _overlook_ it” that takes a chuckle out of Gerry. “After that, we can do the initiation, and then maybe take them to the Hall of History? Martin told me he already went with Peter, but he would love to go again if I take Sasha and Tim. Oh, and Anna says she wants to go with us to Oxford, but she may skip the visit to the hall.”

“Sounds like a plan” they approve, “when are we doing all of this?”

“This week for sure, clear your schedule, oh, before I forget, I do need to tell you about something else. I thought it wasn’t that severe, but Daisy insisted I told everyone just in case.”

Gerry nods and, after a deep breath, Jon tells them what is going on. They stay silent for a minute or so before saying…

“Jon, buddy, friend, pal, other word for friend that at the moment I cannot recall, _stop_ being a damsel in distress, I swear it’s not that hard!”

“…shut up, Gerry, you’re _not_ helping” he grumbles, clearly annoyed, before clearing out his throat. “Hey, unrelated question, have you seen Michael lately?”

* * *

Sasha is sitting on the couch, enjoying the weekend in her favourite way to do so, eating ice cream on her pyjamas while watching the latest episode of The Great British Bake-Off.

A knock on the door makes her frown, she is not waiting for company, nor has she ordered anything. Sighing, she pauses the program she is watching and tells whoever is on the other side to give her a moment. It’s not that she looks like a mess or anything, but she does need to fetch a coat, the hallways are always frigid for some reason.

When she finally opens the door, she finds Tim Stoker himself on the other side, wearing a white dress shirt under a black blazer, blue jeans and a flirty smile; in his hands he has a bouquet of roses. Her heart starts beating hard and fast.

“Tim…”

“Hi, Sasha… I- I was going to say something clever; but, uh, when you look at me like that, you leave me speechless…” he admits, scratching the back of his neck and smiling still.

Sasha can feel warmth being to spread on her chest, she leads Tim in and goes to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. She also gets a second spoon from the drawer; she offers it to Tim when she gets back to the living room so they can share the ice cream. He accepts it.

“So…” she starts, baking show forgotten, “what brings you to my door, Tim?”

“Oh, I just… I wanted to properly spend time with you, I didn’t get much of that on Friday and I’m supposed to restart work on Monday” he shrugs.

“Ah, I see” she smiles, putting the ice cream and the spoons aside to take Tim into her arms. “I missed you”, she whispers against the crook of his neck.

“Don’t tell Melanie and the boys, but you’re the one I missed the most while I was in Norway” he whispers back against her hair an arm around her waist and the other caressing her hair. She chuckles.

“Is that so, Mr. Stoker?” she retorts, parting but leaving her hands on Tim’s shoulders, she smiles up at him.

He doesn’t answer, just brings the hand that was caressing her hair down to cup her cheek, caressing it with his thumb and that’s when she realises that it’s the gloveless one. His stare is so intense that she can feel her cheeks heating up and her heartrate increasing.

Sasha is done running away from her feelings. After everything that happened, after everything they went through, she can no longer deny what she feels for Tim. The way her stomach fills with butterflies when he smiles at her or she manages to make him laugh, how she almost burst into tears when Stella told her that, while she was in a coma, Tim stayed by her side, visiting her every single day, how much she wished he had kissed her that afternoon he left for Norway, how now that they’re looking at each other his gaze seems to be focused on her lips and all she can think about is kissing him.

“I think I want to kiss you”, he says softly.

So she leans up and does just that.

* * *

**[Avatars of London group chat, Sunday, 03:25 pm]**

**Puppeteer (Admin):** Hello, everyone, I have an announcement to make.

 **Archivist:** 👀

 **Slaughterer:** Sasha no

 **Forsaken Prince:** Sasha yes

 **Fuck-the-circus:** that’s my girl <3

 **Huntress:** why does Stoker still have that stupid nickname? Doesn’t he have a title yet?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Have you chosen one yet, Tim?

 **Fuck-the-circus:** Actually yeah, hold up, I’ll DM you.

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Oh, I see, very fitting.

**[Puppeteer (Admin) has changed Fuck-the-circus’s nickname to Vindicator]**

**Vindicator:** so! Thoughts, anyone?

 **Archivist:** I love it <3

 **Forsaken Prince:** Awesome!

 **Slaughterer:** Fuck it up, Tim!

 **Weaver (Admin):** Congratulations, Tim!

 **Coroner:** Does this mean we shall have another initiation soon?

 **Vindicator:** I’m sorry… shall we have another _what_?

 **Archivist:** 👀

 **Forsaken Prince:** Initiation?

 **Lightning Bolt:** It is okay, Martin, I know that word has an entirely different context for you. My family also has an initiation for the new avatars! It’s probably different from the one yours does though. Anyways, this one is a different sort!

 **Forsaken Prince:** It’s more of a ceremony than an initiation.

 **Vindicator:** Oh! Cultural milestones! Do tell, Martin 👀

 **Detective:** Jon, you have been typing for a least a minute, it better be a comprehensive explanation.

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Initiation is a familiar way of saying it; nobody is sacrificing a virgin or drinking blood here. We simply host a little, let’s say _party_ for the new avatars that joins us. Usually we get one at a time, except with Daisy and Basira, they were a package deal. This time, however, we have two. We are going to take you two to a pub we like and drinks are on us.

 **Vindicator:** hold up, so I get free drinks?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** You and Sasha both, yes, it’s our way to officially welcome you.

 **Vindicator:** I think I love you all <3

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Not so quickly, there’s something else I need to discuss with you both. If the rest don’t mind, I will move over to another chat as to not spam everyone. _@Coroner @Boneturner @Lightning Bolt @Distortion_ _@Heiress @Duchess,_ you’re all invited to come to the pub with us, if you want to do so, but remember, everyone has to pay for Tim’s and Sasha’s drinks.

 **Coroner:** I’m down! We hadn’t had one of those since Mike’s!

 **Boneturner:** Count me in

 **Distortion:** When had I said no to a little fun?

 **Lightning Bolt:** I’m in!

 **Living Fire:** Are we going to ignore the fact that _@Puppeteer_ forgot to invite his own sister?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Bold of you to assume my sister requires an invitation.

 **Weaver (Admin):** >:)

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Alright I will move over to another chat now.

 **Huntress:** didn’t you want to announce something?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** …yes, I did

 **Huntress:** then talk, I won’t repeat myself

 **Forsaken Prince:** …now I’m concerned :(

 **Death Touch:** Is everything okay, Jon? Also, yes, I’m down for drinks!

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** I mean, maybe it’s nothing?

 **Death Touch:** Oh, god it _is_ something, spill the beans!

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Alright, I will just say it: I’m haunted.

 **Weaver (Admin):** HE SAID IT

 **Living Fire:** Goddammit, Jonathan! I just lost a bet thanks to you :/

 **Huntress:** For fuck’s sake, Gerard, you know better than to bet against Annabelle, you know Jon would do anything for her.

 **Weaver (Admin):** he would <3

 **Vindicator:** ??? I’m confused

 **Archivist:** 👀

 **Weaver (Admin):** Oh, we had a bet on if he would agree to say it like that.

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Alright, you had your fun, can I really explain what’s going on now?

 **Weaver (Admin):** Yep! :3

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Good. It seems fair that I tell you all, though I feel it would be more appropriate to say, that I’m being hunted…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone missed Odeta? She is one of my favourite Lukases to write :,)
> 
> And does anyone like Tim's title? He finally has one!
> 
> See you soon! <3


	3. In the Spider's nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Martin finally go on a date. Elias calls a reunion with the Archives staff bearing important news. Jon finally reveals his plan.

**Monday, February 19 th, 2018: Magnus Institute**

When Sasha gets into her office, she finds a box of chocolates on her desk and Tim reclining in her chair behind said desk, he is wearing his best _I’m just an innocent bystander_ smile as he gets up, pulling the chair for her to sit. She blushes at the gentlemanly display as she takes her place.

“You’re early” she manages to say.

“Do I get a kiss for that?”

“You get one” she agrees, holding up one finger, “but only because I’m feeling gene-” his lips on hers interrupt her sentence, but she doesn’t mind, throwing her arms around his neck instead to pull him closer.

They talked about their feelings the day before and she was so relieved upon finding he reciprocates hers. So, yes, Sasha James and Timothy Stoker are officially an item now. They agreed that they would tell their friends today, maybe it’s too soon, but Sasha doesn’t care, she is over the moon, drowning in happiness with this new development.

“I know we’re at work”, is what he murmurs when they part, lips still millimetres from each other, “but to be honest, I just want to go out there and yell to everyone that I’m in love with Sasha James.”

“That would be very unprofessional, Timothy.”

They both jump in surprise, parting from each other and turning to stare at the doorway, where Elias Bouchard himself is standing, hands clasped behind his back, unlike Sasha’s, his eyes seem to shine a golden colour instead of green. He steps into the room, until the only thing between them is the desk.

“Elias!” Sasha lets out taken aback by his presence then she straightens in her seat, ready to yell at the man in front of her to get the _hell_ out of _her_ archives. Elias doesn’t get down here often, so the fact that he has decided to come down should be a cause for worry. The pretence has been dropped a long time ago, maybe even before the Unknowing, Elias should know that he is not welcome here.

“I was hoping to talk with the five of you, where is the rest?”

“I suppose they’re on their way? It’s barely past nine” she says, unsure of where this is going. “I could call them if you like.”

“No, it’s fine, I can wait right here. In the meantime, I would like to see how the digitising process is going, if you could show me?”

She sighs; she can at least be civil to Elias, even if _yes_ , he is a murderer and _yes_ , he probably has some evil scheme against her and her friends personally. Because if Sasha can manage to do everything Elias wants her to, then he won’t go after the others, not again. She can and will protect them. Plus, she can’t say she isn’t curious about why he suddenly has renewed interest in the organisation of the archives.

Elias asks Tim to leave which Sasha thinks it’s highly unnecessary, but she sees Melanie approaching her office with a look of both surprise and anger on her face, better if Tim is out there to calm her down. The door closes behind Tim and she sighs, mentally preparing herself for updating Elias on the digitising process.

Outside, Tim can’t help but stare back at the door he just closed, he trusts Sasha and he knows she can handle Bitchard on her own, at least for a little while. He turns to Melanie, who is looking at the door too, a frown darkening her pretty face. That won’t do.

“She can handle it” he assures her, placing a tentative hard on her arm, “but, uh…” and now a goofy smile dances on his lips, “come with me to the breakroom, I want to tell you the latest good news.”

Curious, Melanie follows.

So they sit on the breakroom and Tim retells the weekend’s events, and Melanie is delighted, telling him how happy she is for him. Seriously, it’s about damn time. She smiles as her friend scratches his neck awkwardly when she asks if _anything_ else happened, him saying that _gentlemen don’t kiss and tell_. Tim deserves something nice after all the emotional toll the Unknowing took on him last year, and Melanie can’t help but smile again at the brightness of his smile. She is the definitely going to be the man’s Best Maid, she is calling it now.

Jon arrives shortly after, uncharacteristically well-dressed. Yes, he uses dress shirts and slacks for work, but today he is also wearing a black tie and has combed his hair back.

“You had seen me dressed like this before, Tim”

“I haven’t seen you in a tie since we started in the archives!” he retorts. “Now don’t get weird about this, but you do look really nice today.”

“He is right, you know?” Melanie adds, before pointing at him with her chin, “what’s the occasion?”

“There’s no occasion, I simply felt like putting on a tie, it’s not that deep.”

Tim hums thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

“I think he got defensive, Miss King.”

“It seems he did get defensive indeed, Mr. Stoker.”

Jon has decided that he hates them both.

By the time Martin gets there, it’s already quarter past nine and he is blushed and out of breath, he spend too long choosing his clothes due to having his date with Jon today. He wanted to look nice, but not like he spent an hour and half choosing what to wear (even if he did), plus it’s just a lunch date and they have to go back to work right after. Speaking of which, he did text Sasha to warn her, but she didn’t answer and she has read receipts on, so she didn’t even saw the message. He wonders if everything is okay.

Of course that is just his luck that Elias Bouchard himself is down in the archives when he arrives. Luckily, he is still in Sasha’s office, so he has a few minutes to pretend he didn’t just arrive, even though Elias probably knows. He always knows.

When Elias opens the door of Sasha’s office again, the four assistants are at their respective desks, the man eyes them carefully, he is surprised they lasted this much, but eventually he is sure, this office will be empty once more, just like it had been during Gertrude’s time.

“Alright, now that you all are here, there’s something I needed to discuss with you.”

And Elias tells them about The Extinction.

He tells how the birth of a fear is upon them and while they _can’t_ stop it, they can either delay it or be prepared for when it actually emerges. He explains that he is only telling them this now because The Unknowing was a priority.

Elias gauges their reactions, Jon’s face is unreadable not much surprise there, he is however narrowing his eyes here and there, Martin remains silent but every now and then his eyes will land on the spider on the opposite desk, Tim and Melanie are just listening, the former with a _this may as well happen_ expression on his face, while the latter seems to be calculating if she should go for the throat or the heart as she stares right at him, Sasha, propped against Tim’s desk, seems thoughtful.

He tells them about all the _useful_ information Peter has given him and he can see the spark of recognition in Martin’s eyes, prompting a hint of annoyance in him, they had a _plan_ , how are they supposed to act according to it if his husband goes around tattling the information? Well, at least he knows Peter is competent enough not to tell Martin about the bet they have. The Beholding in him has a sudden itch to know what would the redhead think of _that_ , would he feel sad, lied to, betrayed? Well, he is heads over heels for a child of the Mother of Puppets, so he should be used to feeling that way.

“I do believe that’s everything” he finalises. “Are there any questions?”

“Actually…” Jon starts, “I was planning to take Tim and Sasha to the Hall of History this week, Elias, if you would allow that.”

The others were looking at the spider while he talked; now they’re looking back at him to see his reaction. So he has been telling them things about their world, hasn’t he? Oh, he should have expected it, he let Sasha believe _he_ believed her about Leitner being the one who taught her about the entities, but Elias was not born yesterday, it was clearly Jon the one who give her such delicate information. Yet here you have him, asking for permission, trying to pretend to get in his good graces, the little faker.

Spiders make him sick; he can’t wait to get rid of this one, of this _pest_.

“I shall allow it” he accepts, only because he knows they will go whether he is alright with it or not. “But if you’re gone all day, I will be forced to take that day out of your pay check.”

“That’s not fair”.

“Why? I’m sure your grandmother gives you enough allowance, Martin” he says, smiling politely. “Now if you would excuse me, I have matters of my own to attend to, I will leave you to it.”

There’s a silence as Elias takes his leave, smiling all the way.

Martin feels his cheeks burning in shame and humiliation and he _hates_ him so much for that, yes, he hasn’t had to worry about money since his grandmother welcomed him into the family, but he works for that money! It’s not an allowance! Odeta and Nathaniel don’t pay for his flat and all his needs out of the goodness of their hearts! He does stuff here at the institute, he created the organisation system they use at the archives, he managed the archives while it was only him and Melanie because Sasha and Jon were at the hospital, he helped in the investigation to help stopping the Unknowing and he would have even gone with the others had not Odeta asked him to stay behind!

It’s only when the door closes behind Elias that he notices that everyone is staring at him.

Maybe… maybe they think Elias is right? Maybe they think that he is nothing but a spoiled rich boy and the only thing he can do is be clumsy and make tea and…

“That was a load of _horseshit_ ” Jon declares, drawing attention to himself, and surprising Martin since the spider is not the kind to curse often, he crosses his arms over his chest, “not even he believes his own words, every single one that comes out of his mouth taste like a damn candy store.”

Ah, yeah, Martin tends to forget that Jon can taste lies. If he remembers correctly and going by his words, lies are sweet and truths are bitter.

“Well, he does live off of the Lukas family’s money, doesn’t he?” Melanie says, shrugging.

“Yeah, ugh, and that was pretty low, even for him!” Sasha complains, huffing and crossing her arms.

“I mean, it’s not like could actually aim higher, he is too short!” Tim adds.

Now everyone bursts into laughter.

“Tim, how come you already knew about this?” Jon asks when the laughter dies down. “I saw your face while Elias talked; this was not new information for you”, then it seems to click for him. “You overheard my conversation with Martin.”

“Maybe…?”

* * *

“…I can’t believe you were in a band”, Martin says, “is there anything of it online? I would love to hear you play.”

“If I have done my job well, there’s no way to trace the content back to me” he tells him smugly, “I’m sorry, Blackwood.”

It’s a weird nickname, because yes, that’s a nickname. Jon is the only one who calls him that and the man knows that, technically, that is not his surname. Martin didn’t reveal to his friends that his real surname is Lukas until after the Prentiss attack, when Jon came out of the supernatural closet and revealed he had been an avatar of The Web for a long time, maybe even since Raymond Fielding took him under his wing and brought him to Hill Top Road at the young age of eight.

“Concert for one then, maybe?”, his cheeks must explode in colour, he is sure, as he plays with the straw of his coke. Is that too forward for a first date? “I would really like to hear you, what did you play?”

He thought that, once they finally got there, it was going to be extremely awkward, but this was easy, it was comfortable, nice even, and, once the initial nervousness and awkwardness had passed, Martin found out just how easy talking to Jon was. Plus, this date is surely bringing his mood back up after Elias’ hurtful words.

“The harmonica” he deadpans, cocking an eyebrow, before taking a sip of his water.

“Seriously?”, the redhead can’t help the laughter that bubbles up on his throat and escapes his lips.

The place they’re in is very crowded, but is as if it’s only the two of them. The atmosphere is cosy and the meals taste like they’re homemade, well, at least the pizza does, they agreed on ordering a mozzarella one with anchovies and garlic (of which they took a picture and sent to their work group chat, horrifying everyone).

“What?”

“Now I definitely have to hear you play” he declares.

“Perhaps we could arrange something.”

* * *

**[Text conversation between Sasha James and Martin K. Blackwood-Lukas, Monday 6:15 pm]**

**Sasha:** Are you home yet?

 **Martin:** Just got here! Did you get home alright?

 **Sasha:** Yep! Now tell me everything, Martin, you promised!

 **Martin:** alright, we went to that nice Italian place that has Micah’s and Natty’s seal of approval.

 **Sasha:** and you proceeded to order that monstrosity that is a crime against pizza, yes.

 **Martin:** it’s not that bad! Anyways, we started talking about music, and turns out, Jon is in a band, or was. He told me there’s no online evidence, which is a shame, but I did ask if he would ever give me a concert.

 **Sasha:** Oh?

 **Martin:** Not like that!

 **Sasha:** Alright, alright, what happened next?

 **Martin:** Well, we talked and talked until it was time to go back to the institute, Sasha, I have never felt time stand still and go faster at the same time <3

 **Sasha:** Aww! Do you think there would be a next date?

 **Martin:** Oh, absolutely! Jon did tell me he had a lot of fun! I’m so excited <3\. But now it’s your turn, you gave me a much abbreviated version of what happened on Sunday between you and Tim!

 **Sasha:** Well, there’s not really much to tell, Tim came over to my place to see me, told me he wanted to spend time with me. And I decided that I didn’t want to spend a second more without telling him how I felt. I’m just going to say that there were a lot of kisses involved and leave it at that.

 **Martin:** Love really is in the air, huh?

 **Sasha:** yeah <3\. Winter is the new spring!

* * *

**Wednesday, February 21th, 8:50 a.m.**

Sasha stands outside her building, handbag in hand as she waits for Tim’s car to pull up in the street. Today she will be visiting Oxford, more specifically; she will be visiting a house on Hill Top Road, the house in which Jon and Annabelle grew up. Elias doesn’t know that part, of course, he only knows they will be visiting this other place that Jon referred to as “The Hall of History”, which is apparently a secret place only known by people of their world and she is more than excited to visit.

She adjust her coat, as there’s a chill breeze going around, not enough to get her to regret her clothing choice, of course, and it’s not like she could had wear thicker trousers, though she could have worn other than the stiletto heels, not her fault they look amazing with the turtleneck she is wearing!

Tim’s car finally pulls up a few meters away from her, she can see Melanie on the passenger seat, both of them are wearing sunglasses and he has the window rolled down, Sasha is pretty sure the other woman is also holding a Starbucks coffee cup. She waves and approaches them with a smile.

“Get in, doll, we’re going to go plan a murder!” he announces, happily and, perhaps a bit too loudly.

She laughs and gets on the backseat; Tim has the decency to roll up his window before starting the engine again. The next stop is Stockwell, Martin’s neighbourhood, and then they have to pick up Jon, who has already texted them last night to let them know that Annabelle and Gerry will be waiting for them at the house.

It’s not too far from Sasha’s place, but it’s still a surprise when they get there and in front of the building, and is not only Martin standing there in that adorable pink sweater with red patches that resemble small strawberries along the neckline that she has told him looks _amazing_ on him. Next to him, clad in a well-worn leather jacket with band patches and platform boots, is Jon, smoking a cigarette. The contrast between their clothes is very noticeable, and Sasha can’t help but think that they look cuter together because of it.

At the sight of the car, Jon takes a long drag from his cigarette and puts it out by stomping on it with his boot.

“It still gives me whiplash every time I see you dressed like that” Tim comments after Jon and Martin get on the backseat with Sasha.

“It gets easier with time” Melanie promises, teasingly.

Before starting the engine again, Martin hands Tim a cassette. Since the car is an older model, it has a cassette player and since Martin knows how to record music in cassettes tapes while managing for it to still sound decent, Tim asked him to please do a playlist for the “road trip” and, when asked about _what_ exactly should it be about, Tim said matter-of-factly that he wanted it to be a _yearning_ playlist.

“If I don’t want to get back there and smooch the hell out of Sasha by the time this playlist is over, I’m _suing_ you, Martin” he declares, popping the cassette into the player.

Laughter fills the car as the trip beings.

* * *

The interior of the house is decorated like a house from the sixties or the fifties, Sasha notices, but it’s extremely homey and cosy. They’re sitting in the living room, talking about whatever over tea and some homemade baked goods Annabelle prepared. She really needs to get the recipe for those flapjacks, they’re amazing.

“How do you manage for the raisins to not get cooked?” Martin asks, “I can never manage.”

“Oh, I can’t tell you, it’s my mother’s secret recipe” she explains playfully.

Sasha cocks an eyebrow at that sentence; didn’t Jon say that Annabelle wasn’t close to her biological family? Whatever, it’s not her place to ask, so instead she takes in the walls around her once more. What has called her attention the most is an eye-catching mantelpiece with four taxidermy spiders, including a tarantula, a daddy long-legs spider and two black widows, (she has actively decided to ignore the severed hand lying in a glass case next to it, no need to think whose hand it is), she is still staring at the spiders encased in resin when Jon stands up.

“I think it’s time”, he announces, “just let me fetch something first.”

Jon proceeds to disappear behind a door that leads further into the house, according to what he said, it leads to a sort of study that once also had the only door to Raymond’s study, to the basement. Tim, Sasha and Martin look at each other, before looking at Melanie who just shrugs; the spider hadn’t made this much of a fuss when he told her about the plan.

When he comes back, he does so holding a painting, not very big but it looks very old and the frame is golden, it looks like the kind you would find at a museum. He hands it over to his friends, who are all sitting together in one of the couches. Gerry waits, smiling all the while. Annabelle peers curiously at their reactions.

“Alright, what do you see in this picture?”

The group takes a moment to just _look_ ; the painting depicts a group of men standing in a luxurious room, facing at the viewer.

“I see a bunch of white, probably heterosexual, upper class arseholes that, judging by the clothes belong to the regency era” Tim teases, making everyone laugh.

“Look closer” is the order Jon gives, when Martin gasps, prompting a smile from him. “Yes, Martin?”

The redhead points to one of the men in the right corner; he is the tallest in the painting, dressed in a light blue jacket, with hair that once may have been painted blond, but due to the decay of the painting looks white. He is the palest man in the entire group. Of course, Martin recognises him, he sees his lifeless eyes looking at him from the stillness of a painting every Saturday when he visits his grandmother at the manor.

“Mordechai Lukas…”

“ _What?_ ” Sasha squeaks. “Are you sure?”

“Do you think I don’t know how the man that funded my family looks like?” he retorts, still in disbelief, there shouldn’t be any surviving images of Mordechai, not outside of the possession of the family, where did Jon even find this? He looks at the man in questions for answers, but he is only smiling at him.

“Hey, look!” Tim intervenes, pointing at another man in the other corner. “It’s our good old friend, Bob Smirke!”

Gerry gets closer and points at another.

“This one over here is my ancestor, Albrecht Von Closen” they explain, “my mother always prided herself in being one of his descendants, but he wasn’t _that_ great.”

“And that’s Jonah Magnus” Martin points at the man between Albrecht and Mordechai, almost at the centre of the picture, he lifts his eyes to meet the spider’s, who is looking at him in surprise. “Is that what you wanted to show us?”

“That’s Jonah Magnus?” Tim replies, “oh god, next to Mordechai Lukas he looks like a _twink_! Are there only bears in your family or something, Marto?” Melanie and Sasha laugh at that. “I get it, if you’re a twink you’re expulsed from the family, right?”

“How do you know that is Jonah Magnus?” interrupts Jon, staring at Martin like he just answered an impossible riddle. “Are you sure it’s him?”

“I mean, it would make sense, we could identify all of others but we weren’t sure who that was” Gerry adds, before turning to the redhead. “But yeah, how do you know?”

“My Nana has a portrait of him; we kept it in the family vault with some portraits of Grandpa Mordechai. Hm, she did mention that we used to have more, but Elias asked her for some of them to hang in the institute when he married Uncle Peter.”

“And yet, Elias claims that there are no surviving images of Jonah” Jon replies, thoughtful. “Did he destroy them? Or is he keeping them somewhere?”

“At his house, maybe?”, he suggests, “I have been there and I have never seen any portraits, but Elias has an office that is always kept under lock and key when I’m over, the paintings could be there.”

“Stop, stop, _stop_ ” Melanie says scandalised, “you have been to Elias’ house?!”

“He is married to my uncle, Melanie, they live together, remember? For the record, that house has a very weird vibe.”

“Elias lives there, what were you expecting?” Sasha turns to Jon, “why would he need those paintings? Also, what were you expecting to happen when you showed us this one? Were you expecting us to recognise Fanshawe, Kempthorne, and the others?” she stops mid-sentence and her gaze drops back to the painting, yes, she sees it now, the men in the painting, she recognises who they are, she has read their _statements_. “Wow…”

“That was not it, but I’m glad the meals seem to be working, you seem to be developing your abilities just fine” he comments, “how are your nightmares?”

“I haven’t had them in a while” she admits, “I’m actually sleeping much better.”

“Well, of course she doesn’t have nightmares anymore!” Annabelle intervenes for the first time. “The poor thing was _starving_ ; now that she is well-fed the Eye doesn’t have to prey on leftovers. Plus, you have fun when you go out for meals with me and Jon, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I refuse to dress like a nun _ever again_ , you hear me, Annabelle?”

“Hold up, what? You dressed as a _nun_ , Sasha?”

“We are not talking about it!”

“It happened when you were in Norway, I wanted to take pictures for you, Tim, but Jon and Sasha didn’t let me.”

“I said that _we are not talking about it_ , Melanie King!”

“And I heard you the first time, Sasha. Jesus!” she turns to Tim, “you should have seen Jon dressed like a Catholic priest, it was priceless.”

“I need context, Jon, please!” Tim pleads.

“No, back to what we were saying…” the man in question continues, as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “this painting, I wasn’t expecting you to recognise Magnus, but I’m glad you recognised the others. You see, Gerry and I found this picture a while ago, and it got us thinking, this is probably one of the proofs that servants of the entities had once worked together, not always against each other.”

“And we thought: _could that happen again_?” Gerry continues, leaning back on the couch, Jon quickly occupies the place next to them. “Back then I had just pledged myself to The Desolation and we already had two spiders and an avatar of The Spiral that by then went by the name of Michael. So, we not try and get the rest?”

“Sounds like you think you’re in the X-Men comics” Tim teases, “which one of you is Magneto and which one is Professor X?”

“I’m Magneto, Jon is Professor X. What? Don’t look at me like that; you’re not cool enough to be Magneto.”

“Does that mean Annabelle is Mystique?”

“It does now” the woman in question accepts with a smile.

“Great, I’m calling dibs on Wolverine!”

“Again, back to the point, our idea was to create something that resembled the original group and then we decided that, if we wanted to prosper, there was a little variable we needed to address.”

“Good old Gertrude Robinson” the goth says, as if they were talking about a really nice person that they remember fondly, “she was well-known and well-feared in our world, everyone wanted a piece of her, but it calmed down in her last years as the Archivist, do you know why?” the others just stare. “Why, because of The Silence.”

“The Silence…” Sasha repeats. “The Silence, as in the ritual the Lukas family designed to bring The Lonely into the world?” she looks at Martin, who shrugs, this is new information for him as well, he _did_ know Gertrude stopped Peter’s ritual but not much is spoken about it in the manor, it’s not exactly a point of pride for the family.

“That’s what did it, I suppose” Jon continues this time. “Everyone in our world knows better than to cross the Lukas family, and here comes Gertrude Robinson, destroying the first chance they have had in _centuries_ to bring their patron into the world. You don’t need to be Beholding to know such action is going to have _consequences_ …”

“They were waiting for one of us to kill her” Martin lets out, frowning, before he looks at Jon. “We don’t kill people, we don’t get our hands dirty” he realises, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he is quoting something he has heard Nathaniel saying, but he can’t bring himself to care, he feels like he needs to defend his family, they may serve an eldritch monstrosity, but they aren’t _monsters_ , Martin knows this and the others should too.

“No one knew what they were going to do” Jon shrugs, as if the humanity or rather lack of thereof the Lukas family may or may not possess is something that doesn’t matter. “Point is, no one wanted to be in the way when the Lukases acted, it was better to just leave her be. Everyone knew that her time was up; so I finished my degree and joined the institute a few years after. You’re no stranger to Gertrude’s ruthless methods, Sasha; you know the lengths she would have gone to achieve her goals”.

The woman in question feels a lump forming on her throat.

“I’m not like that…”

“Of course not, but we didn’t know what the next Archivist was going to be like, so I joined the institute. I was… hoping, I suppose”, the spider approaches the couch and kneels in front of Sasha, “maybe if I joined, maybe if I could get the Archivist to see things my way…, then maybe there wasn’t a reason to be weary of whoever took up the position… I just wasn’t expecting for this successor to wear a familiar face” here Jon smiles at her and she smiles back. He turns to Tim and Martin, “and I’m glad you both are here as well.”

There’s a silence for a few moments as Jon gets up from the floor and sits back on the couch with Gerry.

“Is that all?” Sasha then asks softly. “You just wanted me to join you so I don’t go around on a… a…”

“…a magic murder spree?” Martin suggests.

“Yeah, that” she turns to Jon again, “is that it?”

“No, I’m afraid it’s not.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“I want you to not enact The Watcher’s Crown, the ritual for the Eye, and I want you to help me get rid of the only other avatar powerful enough who may try to.”

“Alright, one, fuck The Watcher’s Crown; I don’t know what it would do, but I don’t want to be responsible for _that_ and two, are you asking me to kill Elias or something?”

“We can’t kill Elias!”

Everyone turns to look at Martin, who looks a little pale, terror in his eyes.

“What do you mean we can’t kill Elias?” Melanie repeats, speaking for the first time since the explanation started, she is frowning.

“Ah, um… Jon, do you, ah, do you know what an _anchor_ is? In our world, I mean.”

“Yes, I have heard about it, it’s an object or a person that keeps you… human, I guess you could say, or prevents you from getting trapped in certain entities’ domains, such as The Buried or… or The Lonely…” his eyes open wide when he realises.

Martin nods before continuing.

“And have you… have you ever…” he pauses, biting his lip, “have any of you ever been told that someone is _bad_ but, like, you don’t care because you love them?” nobody answers him.

“But I thought you were in love with…” Melanie trails off, frowning.

“I thought you didn’t have your anchor yet”, Sasha murmurs, and you can hear it in her voice, she is downright _horrified_.

“I… don’t?” then he seems to realise because he, too, grows paler, “Oh my god! You thought that I-… _for him_?! I’m talking about Uncle Peter!”

“Jesus Christ, Martin!” Tim exclaims, gripping his chest as he takes a deep breath. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“I cannot believe this betrayal” he tells them crossing his arms across his chest, “I know you guys think I have bad taste in men, but Elias? He is a monster!”

“In our defence, you have a giant heart, Martin, you are always seeing the best in people” Sasha explains and the others nod.

“If it’s any consolation, I get what you meant at first” Jon tells him and, unsurprisingly _it does_ make him feel better that the spider of all people did not thought he was in love with Elias or something, and, he does sound a bit relieved as he talks. “So, what I’m getting is this: Elias is Peter’s anchor and if we kill Elias, Peter will one day go into the fog and _don’t_ come back, is that correct?” he nods, so the spider turns to Gerry, “alright, we will have to tell the others too.”

“Daisy is going to be thrilled” they deadpan, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry” Martin blurts.

“It’s not your fault” Gerry sighs, “sometimes we do love people that are bad.”

“Uncle Peter is not _bad_ , he is just in love with a bad man…” he protests, softly, like it exhausts him.

“I wasn’t even planning to kill Elias” Jon complains, pursuing his lips.

“Then what were you planning to do?” Sasha asks.

The man with the spider tattoo shrugs.

“Ruin him financially, emotionally and spiritually? Ruin the position he has in our world and take away his power?”

“Hold the _fuck_ up” Melanie intervenes. “I like _that_ more.”

“Melanie just…” Tim tries, but a chuckle escapes his lips before he can finish, “Melanie just wants to watch while the world burns, Elias’ world more specifically”, he dissolves into laughter.

“What has you laughing so much?” she questions, unable to help the smile on her lips, Tim’s laughter is so damn contagious.

“We panicked so _badly_ with Martin’s words!”

“Wait until he finishes next time” Annabelle advices, before getting up and taking an empty plate, “does anybody want more cake?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was Jon's plan all along, what do you think?
> 
> See you soon <3


	4. The Hall of History and The Hidden Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team has their scheduled visit to The Hall of History, later they finally get around to their initiation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Soundtrack:** Bloody Mary (Lady Gaga), Behind your mask (Blutengel).

**Wednesday, February 21 nd, 12:37 pm, London**

The ride back to London is a bit more crowded, since Gerry returns with them while Annabelle stays behind, when asked about what she could be up to, Jon said playfully that he had no idea. Melanie takes the passenger seat again, while Sasha is sitting between Martin and one of the windows, Jon, on the other hand, is occupying the place between Martin and Gerry, who is sitting at the other window.

When they reach their destination, it turns to be an abandoned building with barbed wire around it and several signs warning the place is in danger of collapse. As they get out of Tim’s car, they notice that there’s a parked truck on the same street, it’s one that Jon immediately recognises as Daisy’s truck. Melanie giggles at his expression.

“This is treason, King!”

“Daisy and Basira deserve to know what’s going on” she says matter-of-factly, “so, I called them, let’s go, we will tell them together, I will back you up.”

And Jon, realising that there’s no way out of this, sighs heavily and tells Gerry to go ahead and take the others in, that he would join them shortly. They stare for a bit, when a third person comes out of the car, it’s Georgie. The group sees her kissing Jon in the cheek as a greeting and then kissing Melanie in the same way. She approaches them smiling and Gerry gestures for them to follow.

Nobody says anything, not at first, while Gerry takes them around the back, where the barbed wire is broken enough for any of them fit through the gap. They’re in the middle of doing that when Georgie gasps.

“Oh, my god, Sasha, I love your shoes!”

“Thank you! They were a Christmas gift from my dad and his girlfriend; clearly she is the one who picked them” she confides, making the other woman laugh.

“So” Tim continues now that they seem to be past the awkward silence, “what are we doing here? Is this the so called Hall of History?” he gestures to the decayed building.

“Yes and no” Gerry supplies, “this is, let’s just say the front for what lies within. Basically, this is all a ruse to ward off people who don’t belong to our world, of course it doesn’t deter _everyone_ , you will see once we are inside, there’s some graffitti and rubbish in the lower levels”.

Jon, Daisy, Basira and Melanie join them soon after that. The Huntress explains, looking rather annoyed, that she is still down for the plan as long as Elias gets what he deserves, even if they don’t kill him.

So, they continue with their journey.

They take the back entrance, which doors are held together by a thick but weak chain and enter the building. Just like Gerry promised, there’s graffitti and rubbish everywhere, the place seems bigger once inside and the light of the torches they had brought does not reach very far, there’s a heavy feeling in the air as Jon leads them to a service door beneath which lies a spiral staircase that they take, and, despite the previous illusion of space, here it’s like the walls are pressing in on them.

Tim can’t help but think that the staircase seems… endless and it’s not like the torches can illuminate enough for them to see what comes next. He feels a weight on his hand and sees that Sasha is gripping his hand in hers, a worrisome expression on her pretty face, so he smiles and takes their joined hands to his lips so he can kiss the back of hers. The effect is immediate; she smiles back and relaxes visibly before turning to the steps in front of them without letting go of his hand.

Martin can’t help but look around in wonder, he can’t believe it has been… what, years since the last time he was here? Peter had brought him on Odeta’s orders when he was teaching him about their family. He doesn’t remember the staircase being so long, though. He looks over at Jon, walking in front of the group with the confidence of someone who has been here before and knows the place inside and out. Martin thinks he looks gorgeous on the dim light coming from their torches. As if noticing his stare, Jon looks over his shoulder, before smiling at him, it’s a small one, but it’s a smile nonetheless. He tries _really_ hard to ignore how his heart beats wildly because of it.

Eventually, they reach the end of the damned staircase and it looks like a simple hallway full of dust, they move on.

“Wait…” Tim says, making everyone stop to turn and look at him, he is looking around, pointing the torch at the ceiling that it’s covered in thick cobwebs that seem to glint on the torch’s light, “I would recognise that arrangement _anywhere_ this place has Smirke’s signature all over it.”

“Correct” Jon agrees, before pointing his own torch at the end of the hallways, where a stone archway stands proudly, “but I do believe the pillars are a more recent addition. Recognise the carvings, Martin?”

There stand two pillars indeed, each one with a surname carved elegantly at the top, the one on the left, says _Lukas_ and the one in the right says _Fairchild_ , the former has a marking the redhead knows well, it’s the very same crest he carries every day on a medallion around his neck, an octopus with the words _Dormivit oblivion erimus_ beneath it, while the second pillar is similar, though it lacks a crest, having a Latin phrase that he doesn’t recognises instead: _Custos noster in caelo_.

“ _The sky is our guardian_ ” Gerry translates, pointing at the Fairchild’s pillar with their torch, then at the Lukas one, “and this one…” they look over at Martin, prompting him to finish.

“Oh! Um, _Forgotten shall we be laid to rest_ ” he translates quickly.

“Let’s keep going” Jon says after a few seconds. “Mind the steps” he says.

They pass to stand in the archway, looking over at the circular room perfectly divided in fourteen sections, each one with a craving on the wall and an ancient looking high chair similar to a throne carved out of stone. The torches become unnecessary, as rays of sunlight filter through gaps in the tall ceiling of the room. Finally, everyone gets down the steps and into the room.

Sasha guesses that the one with the carving of an eye is hers, she takes a couple steps and tries sitting on the chair, it’s frigid, which is expected, due to the season and the fact that it’s stone. Sitting there, looking over at the others as they try to find their spots, she feels… she feels as if this is where she should be, like it’s not only her privilege but her _right_ to be sitting where she is, representing the entity she has pledged herself to. Is this what Elias feels, sitting at this very same place when the hall is in use?

“This was clearly constructed utilizing Smirke’s theory of balance” Tim muses out loud, as he examines the carving of a closed eye that belongs to his patron.

He is between two sections, one with the carving of a spider, obviously referring to The Web, and other with what looks like a dagger, Melanie is standing in this one, so she assumes is The Slaughter’s. Next to her own, at the left, is one with the Lukas family crest carved in it, Martin has followed her example and is sitting in the high chair, while Daisy is sitting at her right, in front of a carving that looks like an animal clawed the wall.

“Does anyone have any idea what is the carving opposite to mine supposed to represent?” Martin asks. “I mean, it kind of looks like a grasshopper.”

“It’s a locust” Jon corrects him, “or at least _it should be_ , it’s supposed to represent The Corruption.”

“And a locust represents plagues and disease” Tim continues. “Wait, someone please explain to me exactly _how_ does bugs and filth become the opposite of isolation and loneliness?”

“In Jane Prentiss’ statement, when she was describing herself, she said: _maybe it was her who was the mad and illusion that hide the sick, squirming reality of what I really am, of what we all are when you strip away the pretence that there’s more to a person than a warm, wet habitat for the billion crawling things that need a home, but they love us, in their own way, I need to think, to clear my head, try and remember, but remember what?_ _I was lonely before, I know that…_ She also called herself _painfully lonely_ before what I suppose was her Becoming.”

“Wow, you can remember statements you have read verbatim?” Basira asks, and Sasha just shrugs in response.

“Hard to be lonely when you’re a home” Georgie declares.

“My thoughts exactly” Jon agrees, nodding.

“You should show them your chart” Gerry intervenes, causing the others to look at them, “as you know, there are a lot of things in our world that are not classified, Smirke set the bases, yes, but that’s about it. Jon made a social chart once; it’s like the hierarchy of our world in a scale of one to ten.”

“Wow” says Martin, “that’s impressive! I want to see that chart.”

“Me too” agrees Tim. “I wasn’t playing around when I told you I want to write a paper or two about our world, not sure who would read it, though.”

“I would read it.”

“I agree with her.”

“Thanks, Basira, Melanie; your encouragement is much appreciated.”

A silence falls over the room. Jon is about to get up from the chair and tell his friends to regroup so they can leave when he hears it, footsteps, he can see he wasn’t the only one, because Daisy has abruptly got up from her chair and it’s staring at the entrance. Basira notices her behaviour and reaches over to the holster beneath her jacket, they approach slowly, until they’re standing a few meters away from the stone steps, Melanie quickly gets out one of her knifes and places herself in front of Georgie. Everybody stands up and stares at the door as the footsteps grow closer…

“Woah” says the newcomer, clearly taken aback; she is a dark skinned woman with long black hair and completely white eyes, but despite that she doesn’t seem to be blind. “I didn’t know there was a reunion scheduled for today?”

“Manu, you’re here!” Tim shouts happily, before approaching Daisy and Basira, passing between them to greet the new woman, “it’s alright, everyone, it’s just Manu!” he turns to her, “I didn’t know you came to London! Come here, I will introduce you to my friends.”

“Alright” she replies, coming down the steps to greet him, he smiles and places an arm around her shoulders.

“Everyone, this is Manuela Dominguez, she taught me everything I know about my patron while I was in Norway. Manu, these are my friends, Daisy, Basira, Melanie, Georgie, Jon, Martin, Gerry and Sasha”, the woman nods.

“Pleasure to meet your acquaintance” she says. “Like I said, I didn’t know there was a reunion scheduled for today.”

“Oh, there isn’t one” Tim assures her. “We are just on a field trip you could say, right, everyone?”

The group sort of disperses around the hall after that while Tim talks to Manuela, who informs him that she was planning to visit him and maybe bring him here to the Hall, where she has come for nostalgia’s sake mostly.

“Have you thought about my… _project_?” Tim asks her eagerly.

“Yes, yes I have” his face lights up at that, “don’t look at me like that, I didn’t say I will drop everything and move here to help you”, she chides, “someone still has to guard the Dark Star, it’s what Rayner would have wanted” a part of him wants to remind Manuela that Maxwell it’s dead, but the first time he did they had a very harsh argument that made him learn the hard way that it is a sore subject for her.

“Miss Dominguez?” Sasha asks softly, approaching them. She narrows her eyes at the new Archivist, much different and much younger than the one she had met. She had heard enough about this successor, but mostly from Tim, who is head over heels for the gal and could just not stop himself from telling her how gorgeous and smart and resourceful and independent and kind the young woman is, she had to threaten to throw him out for him to stop. “I would like to ask you a question, if you would allow it.”

Well, that’s a surprise.

“You’re asking for permission?” Sasha nods. Well, that is new, an Archivist who cares about boundaries. Who would have thought? “Alright, you may ask me _one_ question” is what she agrees on, holding up one finger. “And call me Manuela, I’m not that much older than you lot for you to be so formal with me.”

“Alright, then, Manuela, you mentioned _a reunion_ , have you ever been here at the Hall when there was one of those?”

The woman finds with a hint of surprise that she doesn’t feel obligated to answer, meaning the Archivist did not use her powers to force her to answer, huh, maybe Tim is right and the girl is not as bad as Gertrude.

“This hall has only been used twice in the last fifty years” her eyes follow the contours of the tall ceiling, not that anyone would notice, given her lack of pupils and irises. “I wasn’t around for the first time, but Rayner invited me to join him for the second one…” her voice has a hint of adoration when she mentions Maxwell, then she looks at Sasha, then at the others. “The first time, the matter of discussion was the creation of Agnes Montague, as I told you, I was not present for that one, and so I can’t really tell you how that was resolved.”

“And the second…?” Georgie asks, she may not be fully part of this world but damn it if it isn’t fascinating.

“Rumour had it on the streets that Raymond Fielding was creating child servants of The Web, a sort of counter-messiah to Agnes, I suppose.”

The reaction is immediate; there are gasps, incredulous expressions and more than one of them saying _what the hell_? Manuela tilts her head, what’s the fuss about? Raymond died almost twenty years ago, none of them should know who he was, it was already a surprise enough that they recognised Agnes’ name, but, then again, her death happened only ten years ago.

Oh… unless…

“I’m sorry; do any of you here belong to The Web?”

Everyone turns to look at Jon and Manuela cocks an eyebrow, she really shouldn’t be surprised. The young man is dressed head to toe in black, with chains hanging from his belt and enough eyeliner to mistake it for eyeshadow, to be honest, he looks like he just stumbled out of a Depeche Mode’s live show. Look at that, he even has cobweb patterns on the lapels of his leather jacket!

“Uh, yes, I… I’m…” he clears his throat and straightens himself. “I’m Jonathan Fielding, I’m the Puppeteer.”

“So, you’re one of them” she says, “one of the children he created.”

“He did not _create_ me, he _raised_ me and I don’t know what you have been told, but Raymond, _my father_ , did not have those intentions when he adopted my sister and me.”

“Woah, you can put the claws away” she says, offering a smile and holding her palms up in a placating gesture. “Even if that was the case, I’m no one to judge, it’s not like that it’s a new thing in our world either” here she gestures with her head towards the section of the hall belonging to Martin’s family. “Maxwell was actually interested in your father’s motives for your, um, adoption, but when asked about it he would maintain that you and your sister did not serve, that you two were just two normal children who happened to have the Spider’s mark.”

“And it was true, we didn’t serve _then_ , but we surely serve _now_.”

“I see, so you’re following your father footsteps?”

“I suppose, yes.”

“And how’s The Widow?”

Silence falls between them.

“Huh, don’t you… don’t you mean _The Weaver_?” Martin offers, unsure of what is going on with the sudden silence.

“Is _that_ what she is calling herself these days? It’s fitting, I suppose.”

The silence reinstates itself, but not for long, as a growl makes itself known in the place.

“What was that?” Basira asks.

“…my stomach” Melanie admits, causing everyone to look at her with amusement, “I’m hungry, don’t judge!”

“Actually, I’m hungry too” Daisy admits, “fish and chips, anyone?”

* * *

**Friday, March 2 nd, 08:32 pm, London.**

There’s something that Sasha had been told last year after the whole ordeal in the tunnels. Jürgen Leitner asked if she had perhaps received a tape from Gertrude, that it was very important, _vital_ even for her to get it. She couldn’t tell the others before, with all the stuff going on regarding the Unknowing and then her hospital stay and Tim’s trip to Norway. Now the others know, and they collectively decided that whatever it is that it’s in that tape, it must be important enough for Elias to hide it in his office, so they should break in and get as many tapes as they can.

However, she has been told she is not allowed to even think about it, not tonight, at least.

Tonight, she, Martin and Tim are having their initiation with the group. Jon told them he would see them at a club called _The Hidden Corner_ at quarter to nine, so they’re in Tim’s car on the way there. The spider saying he would see them at a club should have been whiplash enough but she looked up the place online and it’s a _Goth_ club that holds vampire masquerades. He may have as well invited them to the Bat Cave.

“I really wish I had it looked up, I don’t know, three hours earlier, at least?” she tells Tim, turning off the touchscreen of her mobile phone, before storing it in her “miniature purse”, as her boyfriend called it, because, according to him it’s not big enough for anything.

It has been _a while_ , since the last time she has went to a club, so she choose a dress that she had yet to take anywhere other than home from the clothing store. It’s short, but not scandalously so, it reaches down to her thighs, but that’s not the problem, the problem here is that it is _neon yellow_ and the matching lipstick she put on to go with it are going to have her stand out a lot.

“Oh, c’mon, baby, you look fabulous! Everyone will want to be _me_ when I enter this place with such a gorgeous woman by my side!” Tim takes a moment to wink at her, before looking at the street again. Of course everyone will look at them, she is wearing neon and Tim is wearing a white dress shirt beneath a dressy leather jacket.

“I think that colour looks nice on you, Sasha.”

“Thanks, Martin, and for the record I do think that shirt looks great with those jeans”, she tells her friend in the backseat, he had been a bit apprehensive in his baby blue dress shirt when she dropped the bomb that this is a Goth club. He smiles back at her, and seeing the nervousness is not present there, she counts it as a win. “I bet Jon will also think that!”

“Oh, my god, Sasha!” he complains making his friends dissolve into laughter. He crosses his arms and stares out the window, just because he and Jon went on _one_ date last week doesn’t mean Sasha should be teasing so much.

They arrive at the club shortly after and, it is not what any of them expected. It looks like any other building for starters, except for the fact that it’s painted completely in black and has a blue neon sign reading _The Hidden Corner_ , the bouncer at the door is a tall woman (not as tall as Daisy, but she looks just as tough), with her head almost entirely shaved, save for a blue lock of hair that frames the side of her face, she cocks an eyebrow at them, mostly at their outfits, before shrugging and let them in.

The group exchanges a look when they realise _in_ means a long poorly lit hallway leading to double doors bathed in red light. The walls and the floor thump with the music, that it’s now more distinguishable than it had been on the outside. It still doesn’t sound like any song that any of them know, and the click-clack of Sasha’s stiletto heels against the tiled floor do drown the noise a bit.

By the time they reach the door, the song has changed and a lot of people are rushing to the dancefloor that is huge. The place is also huge, bathed in fluorescent black and blue lights with metal balconies and a, for the looks of it, very stocked bar with nice looking bottles. Tim suggests, almost screaming over the music that they should get on one of the balconies to see if they can find Jon or any of the others.

_Love is just a history that they may prove and when you’re gone, I’d tell them my religion is you. When Pontius comes to kill the king upon his throne, I’m ready for their stones…_

Once they’re in one of the metal balconies, Sasha tries to text Jon to tell him where they are, Martin reclines himself against the railing, looking at the dancefloor, disinterested. He is not really into going to clubs or dancing, this is, of course, not his first time in a club, when he first moved to London and was on his own for the first time, without having to worry about his mum, he wanted to try _everything_ and visited several clubs, sometimes alone, sometimes with a boyfriend he had at the time.

As he is people-watching while Sasha is trying to get her phone to work, he notices someone in the dancefloor… wait, is that? No, it can be…

_I’ll dance, dance, dance with my hands, hands, hands, above my head, head, head, like Jesus said. I’m gonna dance, dance, dance with my hands, hands, hands, above my head, dance together. Forgive him before he’s dead because…_

But it is. That’s Jon!

_I won’t cry for you, I won’t crucify the things you do, I won’t cry for you, see. When you’re gone, I’ll still be bloody Mary._

He stares mouth agape as he sees Jon dancing to the beat, eyes closed and his skin catching the light in a way that suggests he is wearing glittery eyeshadow and whatever shirt he is wearing is short sleeved, but he can’t really see what it is, just that it reflects the light a bit strangely. He tilts his head to take a better look before realising what he is doing and feeling his cheeks heat up. What is he even doing?

_We’re not just art for Michelangelo to carve…_

_But he_ ** _does_** _look like a work of art,_ he thinks, _he is beautiful_. That’s when he notices that Jon is not alone in the dancefloor, he sees the others now, there’s Georgie, Melanie, Gerry and even Daisy are dancing with him. Well, that leaves most of their group out of reach. So, he turns towards Tim and Sasha, the former is also looking at the dancefloor, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed their friends, while Sasha is still texting with an annoyed expression on her face.

“Sasha, I see them!” he tells his friend instead, “text Basira!”

Basira comes to get them a bit after that, leading them to a big booth the rest are occupying. Annabelle is sitting with Mike, who has an arm around her shoulders, Jared, Oliver, and a very human-looking Helen. Sasha leaves her purse with Annabelle and then ventures with Tim and Martin to the bar to get some drinks.

They have to wait a bit, as it turns out that the bar is packed, but Martin doesn’t really mind, since it gives him time to think what the less awkward way to ask for a non-alcoholic beverage at a bar of all places is. They probably do have those, though, he knows Basira doesn’t drink and she had a glass of her own back at the table.

“Hi, there” someone next to him says.

“Oh, hi, Jon” he does a double take, “Jon?!”

Martin feels his cheeks heat up at the sight of the spider; he is, just like he noticed from afar, wearing glittery eyeshadow and he can now see the dark lipstick on his lips, but that’s not what has him so flustered.

The reason Jon’s shirt reflected the strobe lights of the dancefloor so weirdly was because it’s not a shirt, or well, it is, a plain black t-shirt, but Jon is also wearing _a cherry red harness_ on top of it, leather or plastic, Martin doesn’t know, but it looks amazing in him. It doesn’t over accentuate his figure, but does the job of dressing up the rest of the outfit; he is also wearing artistically ripped and cuffed jeans and the same platforms boots he wore when they visited the Hall of History last week. The man is leaning both elbows on the counter and is smiling at him… Martin is sure he is about to go into cardiac arrest.

“Holy shit, Jonathan!” says Tim.

“Oh, my god!” Sasha exclaims a hand over her chest as she eyes Jon up and down. “I don’t really know where to start.”

“Start by telling me what you are having.”

“Hm, I’m feeling fancy, maybe a strawberry daiquiri?” she muses, looking at the bottles.

“Oh, seconded, I want a dry martini, shaken, not stirred!” her boyfriend says in his best imitation of James Bond, making them groan, before turning to the redhead. “What about you, Marto?”

“I’m not sure; I was thinking maybe something alcoholic? I don’t really know what, though…”

“Is something sweet okay? He nods at Jon’s question. “Alright, then.”

Turns out that Jon has come by this place enough times for the bartender to know him by name, so when she recognises him, she comes right over and he orders their drinks: a strawberry daiquiri, a dry martini, a double whisky on the rocks and something called _electric Long Island_ , that they guess is for Martin. So, they make their way back, finding Melanie and Georgie, the former precariously balancing a worrying amount of shot glasses on a tray and refusing any help.

“You’re just on time!” Helen cheers as everyone sits at the booth, “we’re going to play spin the bottle!”

“No, we aren’t” Melanie argues, but she is smiling.

“Helen can have a little spin the bottle, as a treat!” Annabelle declares, making everybody laugh. “But no, seriously, Helen, you can’t just say that!”

* * *

The metallic exit door creaks when Martin opens it and steps outside, the cool air of the night feels nice against his overheated skin. The back alley is silent, which, great, he does n0t want company. There’s a bench opposite to the door, so he goes over and takes a seat. The chill of February hasn’t fully left the town, so he zips up his hoodie and stuffs his hands in his pockets. He had felt a bit lightheaded before, maybe because of the warmth of the place, or maybe simply because the fact that he drank _two_ Electric Long Islands, which, turns out, are just iced tea, but make it bubbly and alcoholic and _blue_. He doesn’t mind iced tea, unlike his Nana, who loves calling it _that American monstrosity_.

He looks up, not really seeing anything besides the dark sky, without stars due to the light pollution. He shivers, starting to feel cold.

Martin doesn’t really do parties, and neither do Natty and Micah, reason as to which neither are here despite being invited. Natty doesn’t like clubbing period, while Micah prefers gatherings where nobody knows her and she is but another face in the crowd, she says it’s freeing. Speaking of the twins, he remembers they will be going to the manor in his place tomorrow, they asked him to, since it has been a while since they last saw Odeta, seems like moving physically closer didn’t bring them closer to their grandmother.

A selfish part of him doesn’t care, he likes being Odeta’s favourite.

The door creaks open again and the one who comes out is none other than Jon, wearing an animal print coat that, going by how big it looks on him, it’s probably borrowed form one of their friends and that, guessing by the leopard print, Martin would say it’s Daisy’s. The man smiles when their eyes meet, a soft, gentle smile that makes his heart skip a beat, then he comes right over to sit next to him.

“You mind if I join you?” A part of him thinks of making the “ _I do mind”_ joke, but he has been on the receiving end too many times for him to find it funny, instead he nods. “Are you alright? You kind of disappeared, I was kind of wondering where you were.”

Then again, disappearing is what a Lukas man does best.

“Felt a bit lightheaded” he admits, “I’m not usually… I don’t usually drink.”

“You said” he agrees.

_I am not an angel, I am not a God, but I can give you all…_

The music from the inside is still audible and he surprises himself by recognising the song. Yeah, this brings him back…

They stay in silence, though not an awkward kind of silence, but rather a companionable one, neither looking at the other, Martin looks at his canvas shoes instead, bright yellow, unlike Sasha’s dress they’re not neon, but still make quite the contrast against his pale blue jeans. He likes light and bright colours, because they’re _happy_ colours, and sometimes you just have to be soft and gay and _pastel_. He hears the familiar flicking of Jon’s lighter and turns to look at the other man.

_I see the fear in your eyes, you try to hide your pain from me, but I can see behind your mask, you got a fragile heart of glass, black tears are running down your face, but I would hold you in my arms. Nothing can divide our love; I will always be with you._

Orange light sparks to life from the old fashioned lighter and it reflects against the spikes of Jon’s choker when he brings it to the tip of the cigarette hanging from his lips. Martin can’t help himself from thinking that Jon looks beautiful in this light, so beautiful it makes his chest ache and his heart race.

Jon is wearing a bracelet, he has actually noticed it before, it’s around his wrist sometimes and sometimes is not, unlike the black ring on his right middle finger that he always has on no matter what. The bracelet is a thin chain that matches most of his outfits and has several small metal charms hanging from it; they clink together when Jon moves his hand.

_There’s nothing in this life that you ever wanted more, just someone to be there for you, when your life begins to crumble; let me be the one you dream of, let me be the one who holds you when you fall, let me be the one who guides you to the end._

“Can I ask you something?” he hears himself ask, so softly he thinks Jon may have missed it, but he turns and cocks an eyebrow and Martin takes his hand, gentle and slow, making sure that the other has time to pull away should he feel uncomfortable. “These are sure a lot of charms.”

“One for each of the people I care about the most.”

He says it so carelessly, like they’re deciding what kind of drink they will get when they go back inside, not that Martin would be drinking anything else tonight, of course.

“Oh… that’s sweet.”

“Do you… want me to tell you about them?” not sure what to answer to that, he just shrugs. The spider smiles and grabs the first charm, the silhouette of a black cat, “this one is obviously because of Georgie” he grabs the next, a pink plastic heart, “this one is because of my sister”, the next one, a medallion with some kind of religious imagery on it, “this is a medallion of Our Lady of Oxford, because of my dad, he was very catholic, you know?” Martin nods, he too has read the statements about the house in Hill Top Road and it’s mysterious yet seemingly benevolent owner. Next one is a treble clef, “this one is because of Gerry”, he grabs a silver thing with a side painted in light blue that resembles one of the ghosts from the Pacman game, “Melanie”, now the silhouette of a high-heeled shoe, “Sasha”, next one looks like Play Station controller, “Tim”, a gingerbread man next “Basira, don’t know if you know but she bakes too, she makes amazing cookies”, next is not metal like the others, Jon stares at it and smiles, “this one may not look it but it’s a wolf, Daisy likes wolves, she, uh, she has a matching one of these, though hers is shaped like a spider.”

“Huh… I would have guessed the flower was for Daisy” he comments, pointing at the remaining charm a metal sunflower painted a bright sunny yellow with a warm brown at the centre, the brightest of them all.

“Ah? Oh, no, that one is… is because of you, Martin.”

Pause.

“…cool. I- I like sunflowers.”

“Yes, I know”, his face must betray his surprise, because Jon bites his lip trying to hide a smile, “you talked about sunflowers once, at the archives, Tim was saying something about decorating to _liven up the place_ and you suggested we bought sunflowers, you said they were your favourite flowers and you told us the Greek myth surrounding it. Clitia and Apollo, was it?”

“I like Greek mythology” he feels the need to justify himself as his cheeks heat up, “and yes it’s that one.”

“What’s your favourite Greek myth?”

“What…? Uh, I think the one about Eurybarus and Alcyoneus? What about you?”

It shouldn’t surprise him, really, that Jon knows so much about Greek mythology, he has a degree in English Language and Literature. So, Martin just stares as Jon begins to rant about the way Eurydice and Orpheus love story seems to be made either into the most tragic love story ever or one where the narrative turns Orpheus into a sort of villain, and _why_ can’t people just stick to one version-

He feels as if under a spell, he is no longer listening to what Jon is saying; he is just watching the man as he animatedly talks, his lips, still with the dark tint of his lipstick despite two glasses he drank, are moving fast around words Martin no longer can process. The redhead wonders if it’s the alcohol he had, the coldness of the night or just the love he feels for Jon that is warm and gentle and so big it _aches_ in his chest, but he thinks he would like to… kiss him. Just… once, kiss him gently, just a peck on the lips.

It’s not the first time he fantasises about kissing Jon, but it’s the first time he allows himself to do so freely, without letting himself feel embarrassed or fear a possible rejection.

Martin wonders if he could taste the whiskey Jon has been drinking all night, or even cigarette he was smoking a few minutes ago and that now has turned mostly to ash in his hand. He wonders is his lips are as soft as they look.

He is so lost looking at Jon talking that he doesn’t notices he door opening until…

“Martin?”

He feels his heart drop.

You have to be kidding.

“Elias?” Jon asks, surprised, having stopped mid-rant when the door opened. “What are you doing _here_?”

“Hello, Jonathan” Peter says, in that cheerful way of his. “We are just on… a date” here he looks at his husband, who huffs, arms crossed and expression annoyed, he ignores it. “Are you two on a date too?”

Oh. Martin… Martin wants to _die_.

Jon answered something, Martin didn’t hear what, but it has Peter tilting his head to the side, looking curious.

“You know I won’t cast you into The Lonely if you say yes, right? I don’t think Martin would take kindly to me doing that to his boyfriends.”

Maybe it would be a great idea to pledge himself to The Buried like _right now_ , so the earth can swallow him and he doesn’t have to think about this ever again. _Choke, if you’re out there…_

The door opens again and this time, the one who exits is Sasha.

“Jon, Daisy says that if you’re done, can you give her back her-?” she stops mid-sentence to stare at the middle-age couple. “Elias, what the fuck are you doing here?!”

“Ladies shouldn’t curse, Sasha” he chides half-heartedly.

“Get fucked!”

Peter bursts into laughter, startling everyone, for all his silent mannerisms, he surely laughs _loud_.

“I think I like this one more than Gertrude” he tells his husband, who rolls his eyes. Tim then comes out of the club, looking for them; he too pauses when he sees Elias, standing at the doorway with one hand holding the metal door open. “Oh! I see, this is, what do they call it, a double date?”

“Oh, my god, Uncle Peter, _it’s not_ ” Martin protests, finally finding his voice. “What are you two doing here of all places, anyways? Aren’t you…” he trails off, not wanting to quite say _too old to go clubbing_ , but that’s exactly what he is wondering. “…used to more, um, quiet places?”

Nailed it.

“Oh, well, we decided to come downtown and try some new places!”

“Yes, and regrettably, Peter happened to choose this… _establishment_ ” Elias explains, saying _establishment_ like one would say _dumpster_. “We were heading home, anyways.”

“It seemed nice on the web page”, he shrugs, smiling at his husband, “very Victorian, just like you it. Anyways, you’re right, let’s go home.”

“I will see you all on Monday.”

As expected, nobody answers him. Elias sneers as he adjusts the coat resting on his shoulders, which looks a bit big to _not_ be Peter’s and starts to quickly walk away.

“Have fun, kids!”

“Will do!” says Tim.

“Bye, Uncle Peter!”

“Thank you, Peter, you too have fun!”

“Have a good night, Mr. Lukas.”

They wait until the back alley is completely empty before staring at each other, then Tim speaks again.

“Do you remember when Sasha said that if Elias wasn’t a bastard he and Peter would be our gay dads? I guess I can see it now.”

“What, you’re going to go kayaking with Peter, Tim?”

“For the record, he much rather be kayaking alone. Also”, here the redhead turns to Jon, “did you called him Mr. Lukas?” the man cocks an eyebrow, “oh, I know that face, don’t get defensive, I’m just asking. My uncle always tells everyone to call him Peter.”

“Well, he has never told _me_ to call him Peter.”

“I wonder why that is” Tim muses out loud teasingly, but continues when he sees Jon opening his mouth. “Let’s go back inside, Melanie dared Jared to a drinking competition and I want to see how _that_ goes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin: *is enjoying himself*  
> Peter & Elias: Hello :)  
> Martin: why
> 
> Alright! The Urban Fantasy vibes sure are strong int his one, good, that was exactly the idea :)


	5. Some Princes don’t become Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A statement giver comes to the Magnus Institute to recount an experience with the Extinction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Trigger warnings: ** **Implied emotional cruelty (MAG 118).**

**March 19 th, Monday, 2018**

**[Text conversation between Annabelle Cane Fielding and Jonathan Sims Fielding, Monday, 06:22 pm]**

**Jon:** Anna, are you coming home for dinner?

 **Anna:** Yep! I’m still hanging out with Helen, though, but I will try to make it on time.

 **Anna:** She wants to go terrorise a Tesco, do we need anything at home?

 **Jon:** Some garlic would be nice, oh, and please bring me one of those chocolate bars they have?

 **Anna:** Can do. Hey, what were you going to tell me today?

 **Jon:** Oh, I may need you to lend me your talents for when I go to the institute tomorrow.

 **Anna:** Finally, show time <3!!

 **Jon:** I can’t wait to see what kind of lie you have weaved for this one, I bet is incredible, just like most of your handiwork.

 **Anna:** Oh, flattery will get you nowhere, dear brother ;)

 **Jon:** Can I get a little hint, at least?

 **Anna:** No <3

 **Jon:** why must you toy with my curiosity like this and why do I allow it?

 **Anna:** One, because it’s fun, and second, because you love me. Jokes aside, I’m actually quite excited for this one! I can’t wait to see your face >:)

 **Jon:** alright, then. Have fun terrorising Tesco costumers with your friend, I will be here making dinner.

 **Anna:** alright, love you!

 **Jon:** Love you too, be safe.

* * *

**March 20 th, Tuesday, 2018**

“That was a thing that happened” Tim huffs as Melanie accompanies a recent statement giver to the exit, he looks at the group. “So, what happens now?”

“I do believe this should be investigated” Elias declares, “gather your things and meet me in my office in ten minutes.”

“I want to go!” Martin volunteers, getting up abruptly, sending several folders flying to the floor, he winces and blushes, “Ah, I will get those later!”

“No, I think it would be for the best if you stay behind, Martin” Elias contradicts, “this is a task that needs delicacy” he looks at the file folders strewn across the floor, “something I don’t think you happen to possess.”

“Wha-? That- That’s not fair!”

“This isn’t about being _fair_ ; it’s about stopping The Extinction.”

“It’s okay, Martin! You hold the fort while we are gone, okay?” Tim suggests gently, before frowning, “I will, uh, go upstairs, try to sort it out with Melanie and see which one of us goes, wish me luck!”

Once Tim and Elias disappear up the stairs, Martin sets to picking up the fallen folders, Jon kneels down next to him to help while Sasha goes into her office to look for something. They don’t say anything at first, but they soon hear an angry shouting match from upstairs and the redhead sees the corner of the spider’s mouth tilt up. Perhaps is safe to talk now.

“So, how did I do?”

“Very good, dropping the files, now _that_ was a nice touch” Jon praises, getting the last of the folders, his knees creaking when he gets up and hands the papers to him, “you sure you don’t secretly serve my patron?”

“I don’t think Nana and Uncle Peter would approve of that”, he jokes, as he turns to Sasha, who is back from her office. “You sure you already have recorded versions of these files?” she nods and hands him a key.

“Yes, here is the key to my office, like you requested; Elias probably has a copy but this will buy you some time…” she hesitates, “are you sure about this, Martin?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Jon, I may also need your lighter.”

Tim gets down into the archives with a bright smile on his face, assuring them that Elias overheard his _argument_ with Melanie and that she has left for a _walk_ to _cool down_. Jon hands Martin his beloved gold-plated lighter, which he stores in his pocket. Silently, they prepare, and once they’re done, Martin realises he will be _alone_ , he will face Elias _alone_ , and the thought doesn’t bother him in the least. Oh, well, Nathaniel always says their family is stronger in their loneliness.

* * *

Martin has perhaps bitten more than he can chew. Of course Elias would tell him about his mother, of course he wouldn’t care that it barely has been six months from her death. He wants to yell at Elias that he is wrong that his mother _loved_ him, she was his mother, and how could she have not loved him? However, a _lot_ of things start to make sense with this new information.

But the plan worked, and that’s what matters now.

Melanie was actually really sweet with him when she found him in Sasha’s office; face still wet with fresh tears and clutching Albretch Von Closen’s letter like it was the only thing keeping him standing. They got their things ready and left, or well, Melanie left, he told her to go ahead, because he _needed a moment_ , they would have parted ways at the Institute entrance anyways, since she has her motorcycle and he has to take the tube. It’s barely lunch time, anyways.

He sits at his desk in the deserted archive and takes a deep breath. It seems like a part of him already knew what Elias told him, but it still _hurt_ , why wasn’t he enough? Why couldn’t his mother love him like he loved her?

Fresh tears blur his vision, so he takes off his glasses and leaves them in the desk to scrub his eyes with the heels of his hands. There’s… there’s something else Elias said that he can’t take out of his mind…

_“I wonder… was Mauve the only one who saw your father when she saw your face? Surely there aren’t other people you know who may remember him, are there, Martin?”_

The previous information was already like a stab to the heart, but this… oh, this was just the knife _twisting_ in his chest. Who did Odeta, Peter and Nathaniel see when they looked at him? Did they see Aaron Lukas or Martin Blackwood?

It’s only minutes later that he has buried his face in his folded forearms over the desk and is openly weeping. Why couldn’t he have anything nice? What has he done to deserve this? Why couldn’t he just be loved? Was it really too much to ask, for someone to see him, to _love_ him as unconditionally as he loved others? He wanted to beloved for who he was, not as someone replacement.

When he looks up, he finds that he is not in the archives anymore, or is he? He is still sitting at his desk, but the rest of the room it’s _gone_. He is at what seems to be a beach; he can feel the breeze in his face and hear the waves crashing into the shore. _Did I fall asleep?_ A pinch to the arm proves to him that _no_ , this isn’t a dream, so he gets up, rubbing his arm where he pinched himself, and as soon as he steps away from the desk, it disappears. _Where am I?_

Panic, that’s what he should be feeling, but… he feels… a lot of things right now, but panic and fear are not any of them. He could swear that this looks exactly like the beach behind the manor in Kent, but that’s not possible, is it? He starts to walk around, and _yes_ , this place looks exactly like that beach, just with more fog. He looks over where the house would be and he can faintly see the outline of it, he squints trying to see if he can make out the trees that line the limits of the property but given the size of the estate and the thick fog he can’t see them.

Oh… he can’t help the smile that blossoms on his face at what he sees next.

There is a rock formation, close to the seashore; it’s actually really good for sitting, as he had once found out, it was when he was around seventeen, just having joined the family, he had been visiting the manor for the first time and Odeta took him to see the beach. Yes, he remembers, they sat there and talked, since his grandmother was still trying to get to know him, the sun had been setting, casting an orange glow over the beach, and he had mentioned it looked like out of a poem. Odeta had been delighted to find out her grandson was, in her own words, _a sensible and cultured young man_. He laughs. Who talks like _that_? Odeta Lukas does, apparently. He remembers now, he thought she looked cold, so he took off his hoodie and placed it around her shoulders, her haute couture clothes looked so mismatched to his second (third, or even probably fourth) hand own, but she smiled just the same, telling him how sweet he was.

It was actually in this very same seashore that Martin learned how to swim. _I can’t take you to work on the Tundra with me if you can’t swim, can I now, Martin?,_ said Peter before gesturing for him to get into the water. Peter is also the second person he ever came out to and the first in the family, he had done it on accident, he had lost a pride pin he was wearing while on the Tundra and when Peter asked about it, he told him the truth, before remembering his uncle _didn’t_ know he wasn’t straight, but Peter surprised him by saying _Oh, I see, here, just wear one of mine, I have a bunch of them, but I always forget to actually put them on_ ¸ before taking a pride pin from the pocket of his coat and handing it to Martin, as he mentioned that he should join him and his _husband_ for dinner some time.

Nathaniel was a whole different story, he hadn’t believed Martin to be one of them at first and asked for a DNA test, but even before the results were in, he recalls his great uncle walking in on Odeta’s study while they were having tea and freezing like he just saw a ghost. _My God…_ he said, _now that I see you both in the same room… you two are identical, how come I didn’t notice before?_ Nathaniel was also the one who took over his mother’s care, making sure her treatment was paid for. He had once called Martin to his office, an intimidatingly tall and big building with boring grey walls, to discuss the CVs he fabricated, _Odeta told me you like to write, I can see it here. You’re pretty good, these are almost convincing, but your grandmother and I talked, and, at her request, I’m not letting you work in any of our business yet, but don’t worry, I’ve arranged for you to take your final exams in London, so, here’s what is going to happen: you’re going to study and bring me that secondary school diploma and_ ** _then_** _we will take a look at what can we do, I’ll take care of yours and your Mother’s expenses in the meantime, do we have a deal?_

Nathaniel and Peter never say _I love you_ , but Martin never needed them to. To most people they probably come off as careless or self-centred, since his family is not exactly known for their emotional attachment, but the redhead knows better, they do care; they just do it in their own ways. After all, can you really be lonely if you don’t miss the company? Can you call yourself isolated if you don’t know the warmth you’re isolating yourself from? Like Peter says, can you distance yourself from the lights on the window if there’s no light and no window?

He walks close to the shore and sits on the cold ground, staring at the waves as they climb up the sand, leaving wet foamy trails in their wake. A smile tugs at his lips, did it really matter what Elias said? Do his words really have to hurt when he has been proved over and over again that Nathaniel, Odeta and Peter care about him? Hell, those three basically raised him when his mother couldn’t because of her health! They’re his _family_ and, no matter who they see, he loves them and they love him.

“Martin?” he looks over his shoulder at the echoing voice that calls his name, finding a very confused Peter. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know, I just am”, he shrugs. “Wait, where is _here_?”

Peter walks closer and sits next to Martin with a groan, he is no young sailor anymore, it seems. He looks at his nephew, who is, in turn, looking at him with curious eyes. He sighs.

“This is The Lonely, Martin. This is our family’s domain.”

“Oh”, now his blue eyes dart around, as if taking in the place for the first time, “it looks a lot like the beach behind the manor.”

“I suppose most beaches look like this” a shrug. “Do you like it?”

The younger man takes a moment to answer.

“Yes, I think I do, this place it’s quiet and the view is nice.”

“I’m glad you do” he ruffles his nephew’s hair affectionately and smiles, “ah, I knew you were one of us from the moment you arrived at the manor”, Martin doesn’t say anything, but Peter sees that he is smiling and that makes him smile as well.

“…Uncle Peter?” the way the question is asked, it reminds the old captain a lot of how the younger man addressed him when he first joined the family, always tentatively, shyly, as if afraid of being told off. “Can you tell me about Aa-, I mean, can you tell me about my, um, dad?”

Martin keeps his eyes on the unending waves, squinting when he thinks he spots a lone seagull flying through the fog, but he still hears the rustle of Peter’s coat and feels his gaze when he turns to look at him.

“Well, I didn’t really know him well. You know the story, he wasn’t fit to serve or prosper in a house such as ours, so your grandmother sent him away with distant relatives, blah, blah, blah…”

“And what did he look like? Do… do I look like _him_?”

Peter cocks an eyebrow; this is the first time that Martin asks about his father, to him, at least. To be honest, he had always thought his nephew wanted nothing to do with him, which was understandable, given what he had done. They may be a family who revolves around loneliness, but even they have _standards_ , you just don’t have a family and then _abandon_ them. Peter prides himself in the fact that he has never walked out on Elias, despite how dysfunctional their relationship may be.

Martin is still waiting for an answer, he can tell, even if the younger man is avoiding his eyes, he has taken to toy with a little seashell he found close by from where they’re sitting.

“You…” he thinks the answer through, “you have his gender.”

Martin’s hands go still, still clutching the pebble.

“What?” it takes a few moments for the shock to wear off, and then he finds himself repeating: “ _What?_ Uncle Peter, I’m serious!”

“Nice to meet you, serious, I’m Peter!” the old sailor chuckles as his nephew sputters in both surprise and annoyance. “No, but seriously, sorry to disappoint, but that’s all you’re going to hear from me. I was very young when your father was sent away from the manor, I don’t really remember him, or what he looked like, or even what was he like! Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“…okay.”

Peter bids him farewell shortly after, before getting up and walking into the fog until he disappears.

Martin sighs when he is finally alone completely, closing his eyes and smiling as the marine breezes kisses his cheeks and messes with his curls. The waves had become a bit of a background noise during his conversation with Peter, but now that their sound has his whole attention, they sound like the sweetest lullaby.

And then it stops all together.

Disoriented, he opens his eyes and looks around; finding himself sitting upright at his own desk, back in the archives. The fluorescents are the only source of light, since he can see the darkness beyond the tiny windows at the top of the opposite wall. What time is it? The clock on his outdated computer says that it’s past six p.m.

His phone rings.

_ Message from  _ **_ Uncle Peter _ ** _ , 6:24 p.m.: _ _Make sure to eat something and sleep well tonight, the first time in our realm can be tiring since you’re not used to it. I will see you on Saturday._

And Elias wanted to convince him that they don’t care about him? Screw him.

Now, his phone starts vibrating like crazy, it’s like he had it on silent and now he does not, maybe the messages couldn’t get through while he was in The Lonely? (And isn’t it funny how easy was to accept that not even five minutes ago he was in a supernatural realm that has belonged to his family for centuries?). His attention is then back to his mobile phone, he barely gets messages if it’s not from his friends (and they work together so there’s not really much point) or from his cousins.

_ You have 34 missing calls: _ _Seven missing calls from_ **_Tim_ ** _, five missing calls from_ **_Melanie_ ** _, ten missing calls from_ **_Sasha_ ** _, twelve missing calls from_ **_Jon_ ** _._

His messages are no better. Most of them are pretty generic, _where are you?_ , _call me when you see this,_ and the like. Two messages stand out, both of them from Jon, that makes him stop and read more carefully:

_ Message from  _ **_ Jon _ ** _ , 01:10 p.m.: _ _I was going to go ask Elias where you are, but Sasha thinks it’s a bad idea, he probably won’t tell us, anyways._

_ Message from  _ **_ Jon _ ** _ , 01:20 p.m.: _ _Martin, you have five minutes to answer or I’m going upstairs and yelling at Elias._

_Sucks to be you, Elias_ , he can’t help but think with a smirk, before reading further.

_ Message from  _ **_ Jon _ ** _ , 01:22 p.m.: _ _I apologise, that was rather pushy. It is just that I only want to know if you’re safe._

_ Message from  _ **_ Jon _ ** _ , 02:54 p.m.: _ _Alright, Elias was unhelpful as can be. Melanie said you probably need space, and I respect that, but we are also getting quite worried, because it has been almost two hours and none of us can get to you. Martin, please, is there anything I can do?_

_ Message from  _ **_ Jon _ ** _ , 03:27 p.m.: _ _Daisy can’t find you, why can’t she find you? Where are you?_

_ Message from  _ **_ Jon _ ** _ , 05:02 p.m.: _ _Martin, please, come back home._

_Oh, Jon…_ he bites his lip, everyone thinks Jon is not very affectionate, but he is actually quite sweet when he wants to be. Martin is not really sure how to answer, so, instead, he leaves his phone on the desk and sets to packing up his stuff. It’s late anyways.

That’s when he hears rapid footsteps on the staircase and the next thing he knows it’s that he is face to face with Jon.

“Martin? Ah, Martin…!” he sounds so relieved that the redhead has to look away. There’s a pause. “Where were you?! I- _we_ were so worried! You weren’t answering your phone, it has been _five_ bloody hours; we thought Elias did something to you!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” he retorts, putting his palms up in a placating gesture, he steps away from the desk, half expecting it to disappear again, but not really caring much as he closes the distance between him and Jon, “it’s okay”, his hands reach out, but stop short of actually touching him, he was going to place them on the shorter man’s shoulders but he _thankfully_ remembered at the last second that Jon has this thing when he flinches when he is touched without warning. So, he keeps his hands to himself. “I’m okay, Jon, I promise. Elias…” he bites his lip again. “Look, he _did_ say some pretty mean things, but I think I already knew them anyways? What matters is that the plan worked, right?”

“You also matter, you know my rules nobody should be getting hurt!”

“I’m not hurt, nothing some food, a nap and probably a visit to my Nana can’t fix. Where are the others?”

“On the way over, we decided to check here, just in case you came back or something… have you been here all this time?” there’s a hint of annoyance in his face and in his voice as he crosses his arms across his chest, but Martin can also notice there’s a hint of that curiosity so familiar in him.

“Sort of”, he settles on, shrugging, he honestly is not really sure on how to explain what happened just yet. Jon narrows his eyes, but moments after he shrugs too and moves on.

“Jon, would you answer your bloody phone?!” comes a bellowing voice from the stairs, it is Tim, coming closer and closer. “We get you’re worried sick, but so are we! You can’t just grab your motorcycle and take off like you’re bloody Vin Diesel in _Fast and Furious_ just because you think-” he spots Martin and stops mid-sentence. “Oh… Alright, you were right, he is here, but I’m still going to be mad.”

“Tim, I-”.

“Shh, no, none of that” the man says softening his tone, before stepping closer and pulling Martin into a hug, “it is okay, none of us are mad at you, but do warn us next time you need some _me_ time, alright?” he continues, soothingly, soft, while gently patting his friend’s back. “Not letting your friends know where you’re is how tragedies and accidents happen.”

Jon’s phone rings twice.

“The girls are coming down into the basement.”

“Please write something cool on my tombstone”, it’s all Martin manages to jokingly say with a weak smile before two deeply worried women come hurriedly down the stairs.

Sasha is outraged, and she, aided by Melanie, is more than ready to go have a word with their boss, the other woman suggests they _go_ _kick Elias’ smug posh face until it is not recognizable as a face anymore_. Martin doesn’t give them much detail about what happened in Sasha’s office a few hours ago, but it’s enough for Melanie to look at him in sympathy and also pull him into a hug, telling him that he doesn’t have to talk, that she _knows_ , she really does, and that she is sorry.

Martin feels a warm weight in his chest as his vision blurs with unshed tears.

“Clearly, we need to go on a strike after this” Tim jokes, making them laugh, “we will show Elias’ posh arse not to mess with _unionized_ workers, that’s right team, we’re unionizing the shit out of this institute, see how he likes it.”

The chatter dies abruptly as everyone turns to the tallest member of the group, and Martin hurries to cover his mouth to contain the giggles turned into sobs that are escaping from his lips, he is not sure why he is crying, he was laughing along two seconds ago! His friends don’t say anything, not at first, before Tim seems to realise what is going on and pushes past the girls to gather him into his arms, it’s a bit awkward, given than the avatar of the Dark is shorter than him, but Martin buries his head in his shoulder just the same, fully weeping now. He can feel a slender hand, probably Sasha’s, taking off his round glasses off his face.

A few minutes later, Martin is sat on his desk again, this time crying in Tim’s chest as the others move around. Melanie has left a water bottle from the breakroom on his desk, where he can reach it. Sasha is petting his hair as he cries and… Jon, god he would rather not think about him right now. He doesn’t want to think that Jon is _right there_ while he can’t stop crying for no apparent reason.

When he finally has calmed down and it’s taking sips out of the water bottle, _you need to keep hydrated_ , Sasha reminds him sweetly, sitting next to him. Melanie has left, but has probably remained upstairs, since she said she needed to make a call but would be back, Tim has also gone upstairs, to see if the vending machine up in Research still has good snacks, he was vague as to what constitutes a _good_ snack, though. Jon is, judging by the noise, in the breakroom.

“I’m sorry” he blurts out, staring at the half-emptied water bottle in his hand, while Sasha holds the other.

“No, Martin, no apologies” Sasha chides, but Martin still refuses to look her way. “I don’t know what he said, but we will stay here with you until you feel better, okay?”

A mug is placed next to the water bottle; it’s one of his, a yellow one with a cute minimalist bee that says _Bee Happy!_ He looks up and realises the one who had placed it there is Jon.

“I figured you may want some tea, it’s not as good as the one you make, I suppose, but you need something warm to drink. Oh, hey” he takes a handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his dress shirt, handing it to Martin to dry some remaining tears in his eyes. Jon smiles so sweetly down at him that Martin thinks he is going to start crying again.

“Here are the snacks to go with that tea!” Tim announces proudly, arms full of chocolate bars.

“Good lord, why did you buy so many?”

“I’m glad you ask, Jon” the candy bars are unceremoniously dumped on the desk Martin is occupying, before the man proceeds to unwrap one. “Do you remember when you said _that’s a broken spring right there, it’s surely going to break one of these days_? Well, turns out you were right, I wanted to buy only two but the spring did broke indeed and now we have enough sweets for all of us!” He takes a bite, “Hum, sweet, sweet free chocolate.” Melanie giggles.

“I called Georgie” she says, reaching for a chocolate bar as well, “she will see us at Tim’s house; she will bring The Admiral for our sleepover.”

“Hold on, what sleepover?”

“We decided to have a sleepover once we reunited” Sasha explains patiently, “Jon already hid the tapes, so we’re not worrying about it tonight, or the rest of the week for that matter. As the Head Archivist, I declare that the archives staff shall have a few days off, as a treat!”

* * *

**[Text conversation between Michael Crew and Jonathan Sims Fielding, Saturday, 10:37 am]**

**Mike:** Hello, Jon!

 **Jon:** Good morning, Mike, what can I do for you?

 **Mike:** Are you busy today?

 **Jon:** Not particularly, why?

 **Mike:** I would like to talk to you, man to man.

 **Jon:** about?

 **Mike:** It’s about Annabelle.

 **Jon:** Mike, are you breaking up with her? Because if that's the case I don't want anything to do with it.

 **Mike:** No! I wouldn't never, I love her! I just need to talk to you about something, alone if possible.

 **Jon:** Alright then, I have some business to attend down in Westminster later today; we can have coffee if you want when I’m done.

 **Mike:** That would be great, thank you, Jon.

* * *

**March 24 th, Saturday, 2018**

The very next Saturday, Martin is surprised to see Peter’s white Toyota SUV waiting across the street from his building. When his uncle had said he would _see him on Saturday_ , the redhead assumed the captain would stop by the manor. Instead, they’re on the way there together, doing small talk here and there, things like how is work doing, has he been sleeping well, how have you been since the last time I saw you and the like. Martin does the obligatory _how is the husband_ question, though he doesn’t really care, both are things he knows Peter appreciates. Peter actually thinks it’s hilarious that the archives employees have decided to go on strike against Elias, effective immediately and duration unknown.

“What did he do that got you all so upset, anyways?”

 _Tell him_ , a voice in his mind says, _show him the true face of the monster he has married_. But even as he thinks of the words, as he opens his mouth to tell him, he knows he can’t do it, not to Peter, not to the man he has looked up to since he was a teenager.

“He basically called me useless” he says instead, “we’re researching the Extinction, did he tell you?” Peter nods, “so he says I can’t go research a lead we had and I had to stay back while he sends Tim, Sasha and Jon instead, which it’s totally illogical, you don’t know what’s out there it could be dangerous!” Peter chuckles. “In retaliation, I borrowed Jon’s lighter and burned some statements,” now the chuckles turn into full-blown laughter.

“You _really_ like that spider, don’t you?”

“…I mean, yeah?”

“I’m just saying, it’s just… your eyes lighted up real bright when you mentioned him. I think that’s cute!”

“Really, I thought you didn’t like him? I thought you weren’t keen on the fact he serves The Web.”

“I mean, at first I wasn’t, but then I realised, why do I care? I’m not the one who sleeps with him. You can be with whoever you please.” Martin feels his cheeks heat up, so he doesn’t answer. “Is that your way of serving, forever pining from afar?”

“No! I mean… no, we, um, we actually went on a date a couple weeks ago? It wasn’t _that_ much of a deal, I mean, it was to _me_ , but it was just… lunch.”

“Hm, whatever floats your boat” Peter shrugs.

* * *

“ _Why must you bring this up again, Nathaniel?_ ” Martin’s hand stops short from knocking on the door to his grandmother’s study at hearing her voice, she sounds annoyed.

He and Peter arrived at the manor a few minutes ago; Yvette informed them that _Mrs. Lukas_ and _Mr. Nathaniel_ were upstairs on her study, asked if she should announce them, but Martin told her it was okay, wanting to go announce himself like he usually does. He has brought her a little box of homemade cookies they can share over tea, he had thought that he made too many, but if Peter and Nathaniel are here then it might be just enough for everyone. Speaking of Peter, the redhead kind of wonders where he went.

“ _Look, Odeta, listen, just listen to me for one second… you know that Marti-.”_

The young heir doesn’t even have the time to be surprised at being the subject of discussion when the matriarch interrupts again.

“ _No, **you** listen. I don’t care if Martin chooses to serve The Forsaken or not, he is my micul print regardless of the choice he makes and you are _**_not_** _taking him away from me just because you think…”_

“ _Oh, by The Forsaken, I swear, you’re the most stubborn woman I have ever met! I’m not trying to take him away from you!”_

She doesn’t care? She _really_ doesn’t care that he doesn’t serve? Martin is too stunned to do any other than just stand there, she doesn’t care? Isn’t that the whole reason for him to be here, to fill the place his father could not? Technically, no one (besides Elias, but he doesn’t count) has told him such a thing, and it hadn’t even crossed his mind that it could be the case until-

“What are you doing, Martin?”

“ _AH!_ ”

The voices on the other side of the door stop as Martin glares at a smiling Peter who, for some reason, loves to scare him every time he is able. The door opens and Odeta cocks an eyebrow at them both. Nathaniel peers from behind her to see what’s going on, and then, as if realising, he sighs and cross his arms doing what Martin mentally labels as his _I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed_ stance, he blushes.

“Were you listening behind the door?” 

“No! Not on purpose… I heard you say my name and I kind of… wanted to know what was going on…?”

The older man clicks his tongue.

“You’re clearly spending too much time with those Beholding servants” Martin bites back the retort that _technically_ only one of the four people he mostly hangs out with is an avatar of the Eye, and it’s not like he is a kid hanging out with bad company, even if he was, Sasha is perfect polite company. “Peter, would you be as kind as to tell your mother what you told me?”

“Why are you asking _me_? Martin is right here, Nathaniel.”

“Alright, speak then” he tenses as Nathaniel’s cold gaze lands on him, he has the same grey pupil-less eyes as Peter, Martin had actually noticed that when he first joined the family, but he didn’t dare ask, it seemed rude to say something like _hey, why none of you have pupils?_ He wonders if it’s a manifestation of the entity they serve, the way Sasha no longer needs glasses or how Tim’s visual sensitivity to light (which was already quite bad due to his light eye colour) has increased since he pledged himself to the Dark. He has grown accustomed to it.

“Huh?”

“Martin” Peter says, making his nephew look at him, “what were you doing the last time we talked?”

He looks at his grandmother, who is looking at him with those pupil-less baby blue eyes of hers that had never once failed to look at him with gentleness and love.

“I… I may have accidentally accessed the family domain?”

“Accidentally…” Nathaniel repeats flatly.

“Hey, the first time _I_ did it was accidental too!” Peter defends.

Martin is not paying attention to them; he is looking at Odeta instead, who, in turn, is looking at him. She is smiling brightly.

“ _Micul meu print…_ ” she whispers in her mother tongue as she cups his cheeks in her hands, her expression is radiant. “Let’s talk on my study” she says, placing her hands on his shoulders, before she looks down and seems to notice the plastic Tupperware he is carrying. “What do you have there?”

“Ah, biscuits… I baked them for you, I mean; I know you prefer the pastries from that bakery but…”

“Thank you, _dragul meu_ , that’s very sweet of you” the box is gently taken from his hands. “You three get comfortable; I will ask one of the maids to get us some tea and to put these on a plate so we can have them with it.”

“We could perhaps eat from the Tupperware, Nana.”

“We could perhaps not do that; these will look prettier on a porcelain plate anyways.”

Odeta smiles at him one last time before leaving with the Tupperware and the three of them go into the study and sit down.

“If I had known she would take it without question if she heard it from your mouth I would have waited until you two arrived” Nathaniel declares, lighting up a cigar as he reclines in the armchair.

“Huh, you probably should have” Peter agrees, “anyways, you know, Martin has been asking me about Aaron”, here he gestures towards their nephew, who tenses upon the mention of his father’s name.

Nathaniel looks at him as he blows smoke through his nose, frowning when he turns back to Peter.

“Who?”

Silence.

“What do you mean who? Aaron, Nathaniel! My older brother, you know, Martin’s father?”

“Your father’s name is Aaron?” he repeats, confused turning to the youngest man, and then to the door where Odeta has come back and it’s closing the door behind her, holding a delicate plate of biscuits, Martin notices that, yes, she was right, they _do_ look better in the porcelain plate. “Odeta, you have a son named Aaron?”

The plate is placed on the small table with a little more force than necessary and Martin flinches at the sound. The old woman straightens, crossing her arms.

“No. Not anymore” her voice is low, _harsh_.

They could end the conversation right here, but Martin… Martin needs to know.

“Nana?” her grandson asks softly, “do you remember what he looked like?”

“I don’t even know what he grew up to look like, nor do I care” she shrugs as she sits down next to him. “He didn’t keep in touch after Conrad sent him and your aunt Judith off to boarding school; I don’t see the reason to talk about him.”

“I was convinced his name was Adam, why did no one correct me?”

That is where the conversation ended, with Martin bursting into laughter.

“Moving forward” is Odeta who changes the topic, “we have a ceremony to plan… if you feel ready for it, Martin.”

His grandmother rarely calls him by his name, preferring to use cute Romanian pet names instead, so he knows this is serious.

He takes a moment to look at the three people before him, their expressions are unreadable, but Peter is smiling and he can see some expectance on Odeta’s face. Is there really more to think about? The decision of his Becoming had been taken a long time ago, like he told the others once, despite how demanding is to serve The Lonely, he could probably serve with the same devotion as Peter, Odeta and Nathaniel.

There’s no decision to make when the decision has already been taken.

“Yes, Nana, I’m ready!”

“Marvellous, after tea we would go shopping then” she declares, clasping her hands. “Nathaniel, you can call the other branch of the family to invite them. Peter, are you coming with us…? Peter, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I am trying the biscuits? I’m hungry, mother. These are actually pretty good, Martin.”

“Ah, thank you.”

* * *

**[Text conversation on the group chat “Sasha’s minions”, Saturday, 10:37 pm]**

**Our fearless leader:** So… I got an e-mail from Elias.

 **The stabby one:** Me too :/

 **The hot one:** Same here

 **The grumpy one:** Sadly, so did I

 **The cute one:** Me too, but I had a nice day, so I refuse to open it and let Elias ruin it :)

 **The hot one:** Hell yeah, let’s follow our prince’s example! What have you been up to, Marto?

 **The cute one:** Came to visit Nana to the manor, and the she took us (me and Uncle Peter) shopping. Guys, I’m knackered, Bond Street is so big!!

 **The stabby one:** It’s literally 800 meters??

 **The cute one:** Yeah, but Nana wanted to go _everywhere_.

 **The grumpy one:** does she like the vintage store that sells the monochrome fabrics?

 **The cute one:** Oh, I did like that one! Have you been there?

 **The grumpy one:** It’s Annabelle’s favourite store.

 **The hot one:** You shop in Bond Street? ‘,:/

 **Our fearless leader:** Aw, you take your sister shopping? That’s so cute, Jon!

**[The cute one has sent a photo]**

**The cute one:** Those heels have the name “Sasha James” all over it.

 **Our fearless leader:** Aw, hell yeah!

 **Our fearless leader:** As much as I would love spending the night talking about shoes, we need to address Elias’ e-mail. I have already read it, it’s not really much of a big deal, he just wants us to go back to work on Monday.

 **The stabby one:** *chanting* stop talking about El*as, stop talking about El*as.

 **The hot one:** Answer him where to stick it; we’re not going back until our demands are met!

 **The cute one:** Demands? We have demands?

 **The grumpy one:** We should have them, I propose we write him a very “strong worded” letter.

 **The hot one:** Only if I can include silly demands on top of the real ones.

 **Our fearless leader:** I shall allow it

 **The hot one:** Hell yeah, me and Mellie made a list hold on

 **The stabby one:** tell me you still have it!

 **The hot one:** I do!

 **Our fearless leader:** Send it; we can change the phrasing of the “silly” demands to make them sound more legit. Martin, can you type the letter? You’re pretty good at writing. And Jon, can you proofread it? You have more experience dealing with bastards high on power than the rest of us do.

 **The cute one:** Can do :)!

 **The hot one:** I’m sorry, Jon has what?

 **The grumpy one:** What? You think I go around blackmailing poor fools without a penny to their name? No, I go for the big fishes. But yes, just send it to me when you’re done, Martin.

 **The hot one:** Alright here is the list

**[The hot one has sent a photo]**

**The cute one:** I like the vending machine idea!

 **The grumpy one:** can we have salty snacks as well?

 **Our fearless leader:** I say yes!

 **The hot one:** I don’t think the dress code one would be necessary, though? I mean, have any of you gotten dress-coded since we started at the archives?

 **The grumpy one:** I propose we go back to work dressed inappropriately.

 **Our fearless leader:** Explain.

 **The grumpy one:** I could go in dressed like when we went to the party at the club? I’m not fond of tight clothing but I’m willing to ask Gerry to let me borrow one of their corsets if any of you want to?

 **Our fearless leader:** Tell Gerry I will wear it!

 **The stabby one:** I still have some Ghost Hunt UK merchandise from my You Tuber days! And let me tell you some of it is _very_ tacky.

 **The hot one:** Melanie, do you have any booty shorts?

 **The stabby one:** Yeah, they say _Hunt this Ghost, UK_ across the arse.

 **The hot one:** I will take twenty, please and thank you.

* * *

**Saturday** **March 31 st, Moorland Manor, Kent** **, 2018**

The music plays softly downstairs as Martin gets ready, tonight it’s the night, two weeks ago he accepted to having his ceremony. He is tying his tie, the way Peter taught him to because the way Nathaniel does it it’s unnecessarily complicated for some reason. The light blue blazer he will be wearing is hanging on the back of a nearby chair as he buttons up the crisp white dress shirt that goes beneath, which doesn’t have buttons at the cuffs for some reason, the cufflinks probably are somewhere in the bags from the store. He isn’t panicking, he isn’t.

Alright, maybe he is panicking a little.

It’s just that the _whole_ Lukas family will be here for the ceremony and he is so afraid of making a fool of himself. He doesn’t even know why. He tries taking deep breaths as he finishes with the shirt. He concentrates on his reflection on the mirror, on his blue eyes that by the end of the night will no longer look the same. This ceremony it’s a symbolic thing, he knows, but he can’t also help the feeling that when the night is over, he will no longer be Martin K. Blackwood.

He will become Martin K. Lukas definitely.

He can do this. He can, this is all he ever wanted. Straightening himself, he squares his shoulders. As he mentally rehearses what he has to answer when he gets down to the main floor, where the others are waiting. He practiced with Odeta and once each with Peter and Nathaniel. _I’m a servant of The Forsaken; I’m the Forsaken Prince._

“Knock, knock” Peter says, opening the door slightly and poking his head in, he is dressed in a very elegant black suit. “Are you ready?”

“Hm…” Martin holds his hands up to show him the floppy cuffs and feels his face heating up a little when Peter chuckles.

Peter steps into the room, closing the door behind him. Martin notices a velvet navy blue box on his hand, which he opens, revealing a pair of golden cufflinks with the family crest on them that he leaves on the boudoir in front of which Martin is standing, the captain takes one while extending his free hand towards his nephew, who seems to understand and offers his undone cuff.

“These are a very special family heirloom” he explains as he puts it on, “they once belonged to Mordechai Lukas himself, and we only pass it on to those who we believe can serve. Nathaniel gave them to me when I had my ceremony, and now I’m giving them to you. There, now give me you other hand, you have never wore cufflinks before, Martin?” he shakes his head _no_. “I see, well, there’s a first time for everything. There we go, now put on the jacket.”

Doing as he is told, he puts on the blazer and stares at himself in the mirror. He likes what he sees. That’s when Odeta comes in, dressed in a beautiful white gown, with dangling earrings and even a bit of make-up.

“Oh, Martin, you look so handsome! Let me take a look at you”, Odeta smiles as she adjusts his lapels. “Alright, let’s rehearse it one more time, then, which patron do you serve, Martin?”

“I serve The Forsaken.”

“And what’s your title, servant of The Forsaken?”

“I am the Forsaken Prince.”

“What are you?”

“I am a Lukas, I am royalty.”

“Wonderful.”

Nathaniel comes by next, followed by Natalia and Michaela; the three of them are dressed like they’re attending a gala. Usually, since Natty and Micah had not had their own ceremonies yet they shouldn’t be here, but they insisted and Odeta managed to convince the others to let them attend the first part.

“Oh, my god, Martino, you look amazing!” Micah exclaims.

“Absolutely”, her sister agrees.

“Are you ready, dragul meu?”

He takes a moment to look around at his family and their smiling faces, and just like that, his nervousness and anxiety evaporate.

“Yes, I’m ready!”

* * *

**April 1 st, Sunday, 2018, Lukas Graveyard, Kent**

The golden beams of the rising sun bathe the graveyard in an ethereal light as it shines through the early morning mist. The temperature is low, almost low enough for Odeta to wish she had the mind to pack a thicker jumper, but this one beneath her cloak will have to do. The rest of the family had already left last night, which, good, because she won’t miss them. Nathaniel seems to notice her rubbing at her arms, because he makes a move to remove his jacket, but she just shakes her head _no_ and he adjusts it back on over his shoulder. Peter has stayed behind at the manor with the twins, who are probably still sleeping.

“The sun is almost up…” she comments to no one in particular, adjusting her cloak.

She is not worried, she is not.

“Peter did take his time too” Nathaniel reminds her, seems like he always knows what to say to her. “We do know Martin is a bit of a late bloomer anyways”, she smiles, looking his way out of the corner of her eye. He delicately places a hand on her arm and she relaxes a little. “Plus, he is your grandson; I would be surprised if he doesn’t have at least half of your stubbornness.”

She laughs, but is quickly interrupted by the rattling of the old chapel’s door.

Someone is trying to open the door from the inside. Odeta clutches her hands against her chest, gasping, she barely registers she is also holding her breath as the door is tried a few more times before it gives in.

Martin raises an arm to block the light of the incipient sunrise, stepping away from the chapel’s doors, which close behind him with a rattle. The redhead looks around, disoriented, but still smiles as he spots his great uncle and his nana, the latter hurries at his side, taking his face in her hands.

“Let me see you, ursulet, let me see your eyes…”.

The man blinks but smiles at his grandmother, who almost tears up at the sight of his eyes, blue as they have always been but now so much more like hers. She brings his face down and kisses his forehead murmuring something that sounds way too similar to _I’m so proud of you_ to be a coincidence against his skin but she says it low enough for only the two of them to hear. Odeta breaks away when she hears Nathaniel’s footsteps behind them.

“Very good, Martin” is all he says, “shall we go back to the manor?”

“Yes, what do you want for breakfast, dragul meu?”

“Can we have tea and muffins?”

“Anything you want, let’s go, it’s a bit cold here…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elias: this why your mum doesn’t fucking love you and nobody loves you either!  
> Martin: D:  
> The Lukases: Wrong!  
> The Archives team: DOUBLE WRONG, ELIAS!
> 
> I’m sure Martin fully embracing the Lonely after his little run-in with his boss won’t have any negative consequences for Elias, none at all ;)
> 
> I would like to wish a lovely Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it and a lovely day to those who don’t!
> 
> Translations for the Romanian words Odeta uses to refer to Martin:  
> Dragul meu: My dear  
> Micul meu print: My little prince  
> Ursulet: little bear cub
> 
> See you soon <3


	6. My Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original recordings of the attack performed by the Flesh on the archives of the Magnus Institute, Archivist Sasha James recording.

**[Excerpt from a phone call between Jonathan Sims Fielding and Martin K. B. Lukas, April 3 rd, 9:07 pm]**

**Jon:** _(doubtful)_ but you’re alright…

 **Martin:** _(dismissive)_ yes, yes, it’s just… a cold or something? I’m not sure, but don’t worry, I should be fine to go back to work next week like we planned. _(Sheepishly)_ Any idea of how the others are doing? I have been mostly sleeping these past two days, if I’m honest.

 **Jon:** I don’t know anything you don’t, just what they have written in the group chat, they seem to be enjoying these days off that Sasha declared _(chuckles)_ I myself went to see Gerry today. I… I may have told them about what you did? They say they want you to come with us next time we go burn some Leitners if you’re interested…

 **Martin:** That shouldn’t sound as fun as it does, but yeah, that would be great! Um, listen, Jon, there’s something I need to tell you about… it’s not bad or anything, but, uh, I want to tell you next Wednesday when we go back to work, okay?

 **Jon:** Alright… I have to go now, but you rest up, okay? I really want… _(coughs)_ I mean, I will see you on Wednesday, I suppose.

 **Martin:** Oh! See you on Wednesday, then… good night!

 **Jon:** Sweet dreams, Martin…

* * *

**April 11 th, Wednesday, 2018, Magnus Institute, London**

They should have expected this, they really should have.

The archives had been quiet and peaceful the past few months, nothing major since The Unknowing, even when Elias asked them to research The Extinction, Jon believed there had to be something else going on with that, it was a mystery to solve and it there was one thing he loved, that was mysteries.

Overall, they all had their guards down for this one, when that couple came in; the team had assumed they came to give a statement. Even if they looked too posh to be in a place like the institute; the man looked like he was a soccer or tennis player due to his physique and the woman looked like she belonged on an acclaimed catwalk in Milan. So Jon was as surprised as everyone else when these two attacked them.

“Don’t think that just because you turned the lights off we won’t find you!” the woman screeches, her voice would be considered honey-like in any other situation, but right now it’s anything but that. The man just growls.

The lights are pretty much still on, but whatever Tim is doing to trick them otherwise seems to be working. Jon is closer to the staircase, while the others are closer in one way or another to Sasha’s office; they’re also staring at him since he is one closer to the enemy as well. He looks around, calculating possible escape routes while the couple blindly reaches around themselves, trying to find a clue of where they are.

He looks at his friends, points to the open door of Sasha’s office, gestures as if shooing them and mouths “ _go!_ ”

Sasha automatically gets the hint and grabs Melanie by the shoulder, who for some reason is recording, and Martin by the arm, but the redhead energetically shakes his head _no_ and then gestures exasperatedly for Jon to come with them. Now, it’s Jon who shakes his head _no_. They start going back and forth until Tim gets fed up and lets out a low but passionate “ _oh, for fuck’s sake_ ”, bringing them back to the moment.

“I know you’re still here, I hear you whispering!”

Jon looks at Melanie’s desk, surprisingly still upright, then at one of the shelves, and finally to the ceiling.

 _I hope I can still do **that**_ , he thinks bitterly, before making a run for it.

Jon is not athletic by any means, but he somehow manages to jump into Melanie’s desk, alerting the Flesh avatars, but without their sight it takes them a bit to catch up and by the time they reach the desk, he has already jumped to the shelf and used it to reach the ceiling.

The others gasp, and Jon, now hanging upside down on his hands and knees from the ceiling gestures for them to go into the office, annoyed and with urgency. They just stare. Jon curses under his breath and starts to move, crawling, towards them, slowly at first, but he manages to speed it up after a few moments. Good Lord, he hasn’t done this since he was a kid, back at Hill Top Road, his parents weren’t fond of it since they were afraid he may fall and hurt himself, and they also didn’t want Annabelle to imitate him (she was on a phase where she wanted to do everything that Jon did), plus he wasn’t allowed to do it in front of the other kids either for obvious reasons. Raymond thought that it was “cute” the way he “scuttled” on the ceiling like he had seen his tarantula doing.

“What’s that noise?” the man growls, trying in vain to look around and find the source.

“It’s on the ceiling!”

They start to clumsily follow the noise and the others _finally_ take the hint and get into the office. Just as the avatars are about to reach the office, Jon manages to get a hold of the office’s doorframe and balancing himself like he did some many times before he gets enough impulse to kick the man right in the face, sending him tumbling back and crashing into his associate. He’s glad for his decision to wear his combat boots today. Sasha locks the door with her key and Jon places a chair in front of it for good measure, before they go where Tim is holding the trapdoor open for them to come through.

The trapdoor shuts closed above them as the door to Sasha’s office is pounded relentlessly by their two visitors. The group of five breathes a collective sigh of relief as the pounding upstairs continues. This will buy them some time. Sasha allows herself to fall to the floor, not caring about how the dirty ground may ruin the maxi skirt she is wearing today, which is already ruined by the bloodstains anyways. She hears a whirring and looking at her side, she finds a tape recorder, recording away. Huh, how come she never wondered where they come from?

Tim is still standing, looking over their friends like a silent guardian, his arms crossed and his expression unfriendly, his grey eyes look at the trapdoor every now and again. Melanie is with her mobile phone, the dim brightness of the touchscreen the only source of light in the room, which casts strange shadows in the woman’s face. Jon is patting his jacket, lighter in hand; they don’t need Beholding powers to tell them he is probably looking for a cigarette. Martin has sat against the wall opposite to Sasha, he has his glasses in one hand and the other is covering his face.

“I got it all on tape, guys!” Melanie exclaims, excited, before sitting down next to Sasha, Tim and Jon look at her, the latter doing so with a raised eyebrow. Martin looks up, but remains where he is. “Anyways, Tim, Jon, what was that both of you did upstairs?”

“Oh, I… I blinded them” Tim explains, “it’s not permanent and it doesn’t hurt, I just controlled my darkness in a way that didn’t allow for light to reflect on their eyes. The effect it’s probably over by now, since I’m not there controlling it” he turns to Jon. “What about you, mate?”

“My father called it _scuttling_ , my sister and I did it all the time when we were kids… I guess he just thought it was an adorable thing we did. I wasn’t expecting it to come in handy after all this years; I had even forgotten that I was able to do that.”

They stay in silence for a while. Jon, who has sat next to Martin after he finished speaking, notices he is putting away something in his pocket that he recognises as a plastic case for contact lenses, which doesn’t really make sense since he was wearing his round glasses this morning. Frowning, the spider looks up at him and their eyes meet.

“Martin… what happened to your eyes?”

Martin stares at him for a few seconds, before turning to the others, who gasp as they notice probably the same thing as Jon did. Martin’s eyes had lost their pupils, but they’re just the same baby blue they have always been. He avoids their eyes, this is definitely not how he expected to tell them.

“I had my ceremony on Saturday” is all the explanation he gives.

“Congratulations”, Jon is the first to speak and he does so with a smile. When Martin looks curiously at him, he chuckles. “This is an important milestone in our world and everyone celebrates it differently, my father threw me a party when I got my first cobwebs.”

“Aww, that’s adorable” Tim says, before pulling off the silver pendant from beneath his shirt, it is the one he has been wearing since he got back from Norway. “Manuela gifted me this when I finished my training, it used to be wore by members of the People’s Church of the Divine Host.”

“Um, Elias congratulated me when I got back from the hospital, I _was_ going to tell him where to stick it, but he may or may have not given me a gift card for over a thousand pounds to shop in Bond Street as a gift.”

“Sasha James!” Melanie chides. “We don’t accept shit from _him_!”

“But Melanie, I got to buy a beautiful pair of Jimmy Choo shoes that I wanted and I had enough for a Prada dress too! Also, I was in a coma, I deserve to buy myself something nice.”

“You’re valid but you’re also on thin ice.”

“How come I have never seen this so called Prada dress?” Tim teases.

“I haven’t had a chance to wear it since I bought it.”

“Huh, sounds like I have to take you somewhere nice, dinner on Friday?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but you have worse problems here” Jon interrupts, pointing to the ceiling, above the trapdoor, pounding can still be heard. “If anyone has any ideas on how to deal with this I will be very keen on listening to them.”

“I may have something…” Martin trails off as all the eyes land on him.

* * *

Two doors open simultaneously into the main office of the archives, which are now bathed in a translucent mist and two unconscious avatars lie on the carpeted floor. Martin is the only one standing, panting as he stares down at them. Looking at the side, he sees a yellow door that wasn’t there before, where their friends are pouring out, Daisy, Basira, Mike, Gerry, Helen and Georgie, who for some reason is holding a metal bat, stare at him with emotions that range from weariness to curiosity.

“Hey, what the fuck-” Gerry manages to talk first.

“What the hell?” Daisy continues, as she stares at the two figures lying in the floor of the archives.

Martin doesn’t like the look he sees in Daisy’s and Basira’s eyes, so he turns to his friends; Melanie takes the moment to break the tension by launching herself in Georgie’s way, Tim just gives him a thumbs up, Sasha notices him staring and smiles. Jon is staring at the two unconscious people on the floor, head tilted in that adorable way of his.

“…we came here because we all got the video of Jon crawling on the ceiling Exorcist style” Mike explains, and Martin realises he is answering a question from Tim, “Melanie send it to the group chat and we figured you may need some, um, _reinforcements_ ”, he holds up his phone to show them, the video playing. “Annabelle should be dropping by soon, she said she would bring some clothes for everyone, hey, how come there’s blood everywhere but none of you are hurt? Wait, no, that sounded wrong-!”

“It is okay, Mike” Jon assures, “turns out that Flesh avatar over there angered our very own Slaughterer.”

Melanie puffs out her chest, hand on her hip and a dangerous smile on her pretty face.

“I stabbed it in like three different hearts”, her voice is laced with both confusion and pride.

The door that leads into the archives opens and down the stairs comes Annabelle, carrying a white plastic bag and being closely followed by Oliver. She smiles when she spots Jon and rushes to his side; he is already waiting for her with open arms, she hugs him, not caring about the probably still fresh bloodstain on the side of his white dress shirt. Sasha and Tim can’t help but smile at the sight.

“See?” Oliver offers matter-of-factly, “They’re all fine, no tendrils of death in this archive today.”

The door opens again and Sasha Knows before she sees him, that the one coming is none other than Elias Bouchard, he walks down the stairs, frowning in what seems to be annoyance at the people populating his archives uninvited, but too bad because these are _not_ his archives, they’re _Sasha’s_ archives. Then she hears gasps and murmurs and it’s then when she notices that her boss is not alone, but rather accompanied by Peter Lukas himself, who is carrying something under his arm… it looks like a balled up rust coloured fabric of sorts. They both stop when they notice the fog still curling around the floor, it’s still there but it’s getting more and more translucent as the time passes.

The blond captain walks past Elias and takes a moment to stare at each of the unconscious bodies in the floor, as if considering, and then he looks up at Martin and nods approvingly with a smile. Martin gives a shaky smile back. Peter nods towards the staircase, looking at it for a second and then back at him and his nephew sighs, before turning to them.

“I will be right back.”

There’s a silence until the door closes behind the two of them, the room seems to be fully cleared out of the fog as well by now, and the whispers recommence.

“Is that him?” Annabelle whispers excitedly to her brother, who has pushed her behind him the moment he spotted Peter and Elias.

Expectant looks fall on Jon, who nods. The whispers come back full force and Sasha can see Oliver slightly lowering his dark tinted glasses as he looks to the place where Martin and Peter just left. He is not the only one; everyone is more or less doing the same thing. Sasha cocks an eyebrow and turns to look at her boyfriend, who shrugs. Why in the world is everyone acting like Prince Charles just come down into the archives?

Wait… _Oh._ Yeah, she seems to have forgotten that Martin and his family are quite the celebrities in their world. She can see what the fuss is about… kind of. For what she has heard from Jon, despite the political power that family wields, they’re very elusive, mostly keeping to themselves, which makes sense giving the patron they worship. If she recalls correctly, nobody outside the royal family has actually _seen_ The Ice Queen in _decades_. Not after something, seemingly an event, that Daisy referred to as _The Tale of the Six Hunters_ , but Sasha couldn’t get her to elaborate on what _that_ was, which only helped in making her more curious.

Clean up starts shortly after that, everyone except Helen volunteers to stay and help. Elias, after informing there’s no way to hire a cleaning team that will overlook the blood on the carpet, goes back to his office or maybe to go look for Peter, who knows. He does look pretty angry though.

* * *

“Martin, why didn’t you tell me?” Elias stops in the hallway when he hears his husband’s voice. He peeks over the corner and sees him, talking with Martin who has put on another sweater, one that he recognises as Peter’s, as they walk towards him. The redhead doesn’t answer, just rubs his arm, as if he was cold. “We are family, you can tell me these things, you know?” he notices Elias in front of them. “Well, now that we have that cleared up, I think we’re done, Martin” he smiles at his nephew, who tentatively smiles back. “I do believe I will stop at the manor this Saturday as well” he mentions in passing and the younger man’s face lights up.

“That would be great!” he shoots Elias a glance, before adding. “I will, uh, go back to the archives, see if the others need any help with the clean-up part.”

“Oh, Martin, do tell Itsy Bitsy that I say hello!”

“Uncle Peter, it isn’t funny!” he complains, cheeks aflame; before a hint of fondness creeps into his voice, “I will see you on Saturday.”

Once he leaves, Elias and Peter turn to look at each other.

“So, if you would like, we can continue this discussion in my office-…”

“The bet is off, Elias.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on, you heard me the first time, little man. Our bet… is… _off_ ” the captain repeats slowly, as if talking to a child. “You can’t just go traumatise Martin and expect no consequences for your actions, you know exactly how much is that my mother adores him, you’re _very_ lucky she hasn’t heard about this.”

“What? No, no, no, Peter, listen, _listen_ , our plan…”

“ _Your_ plan, you mean? Look, Elias, I don’t care and you’re not going to convince me.”

And just like that, Elias finds himself alone in the hallway again. He has the sudden need to fill some divorce papers.

* * *

Desks are turned upright, papers are picked up from the floor, and messes are cleaned up while the team gets into some clean clothes. The two Flesh avatars are tied on a corner, courtesy of Daisy. Who is now lifting a heavy bookshelf that fallen in the confrontation. Annabelle is happily leading the conversation, gently picking up one of Jon’s tarantulas to set her on her brother’s desk, she has brought some clothes from Jon’s wardrobe for them to wear. Georgie, Gerry and Daisy did happen to recognise a skirt, a band tee and a jumper that belonged to each of them, but for now the archives team are using them so they can exit the archives when they work day it’s over.

“I can´t believe you actually have good taste in clothes, Jon” Melanie scoffs when she comes back from changing in Document storage; she is wearing a long olive green skirt and a frilly blouse. “This blouse is so cute!”

“Oh, that one is Anna’s, actually” he retorts, rolling his eyes, “I don’t really wear light blue.”

“I see, that explains it.”

“The skirts you both are wearing are mine, though” he says, crossing his arms, “to be honest, Sasha, that one fits you better than it does me. You can keep it if you want, because I don’t think you will be able to get out the bloodstain in yours.”

“Thank you! It’s very cute!”

Once everyone is more or less presentable, the clean-up continues.

“Jared… he was supposed to be here…” Annabelle admits after a while, her tone is clinical, detached, but Jon can see the sadness on her brown eyes. “He would have known what to do; I don’t know where he is…”

“Annabelle Stardust Cane Sims Fielding!” a low and strident voice erupts from the stairs, “did you really think I would leave you on your own?”

Everyone turns to the sound, and there you have him, Jared Hopworth, dressed in his usual gym clothes and accompanied by an old lady. Annabelle rushes to his side, smiling all the while.

“You’re here!”

“Of course, I just needed to get some actual help first” he gestures at the woman at his side.

“Hello, everyone” she says, “my name is Angela.”

“Angela?” someone repeats from the stairs, they turn to look at Martin, who has come back, without Peter and dressed in a different jumper than the grey one he wore earlier, it looks a bit big on him, and Sasha recognises it as the balled up rust coloured fabric the captain had been carrying earlier.

“Hello, Prince, it is nice to see you again, how is your grandmother?”

Turns out Angela and Martin had already met each other, back when they first started at the archives and Martin had been tasked with doing a follow-up on a statement. She was one of the many _Angelas_ he interviewed for the Noriega case. She explained to them that the only reason she hadn’t said anything when he did so was because she noticed the medallion around his neck and she _knows better than to mess with the apple of the Queen’s eye_ and that Martin was a very polite young man when she met him, so she gave him tea and scones and sent him on his way. She also explained that, yes, she knows the two that attacked them, they’re both part of the “kids” she “mentors”, explaining that she sometimes takes young avatars under her wing to teach them about their patron, she also assures them that they will be “reprimanded” for what they had done, whatever that means.

The group sort of disperses after that, Sasha leads Angela and Jared into her office where they left the other avatars to see if Angela can make them talk about what brought them to the institute.

“That colour suits you” Jon murmurs to Martin, so low only the two of them can hear.

He can’t help but think that Jon is the sweetest.

“Thanks.”

* * *

**April 14 th, Saturday, 2018, Moorland Manor, Kent**

The waves gently lap at the wet sand of the seashore, bringing a cool breeze with them that smells of salt and mist, despite the sunny day. Martin looks at it, how many poems has he written, based on this very same beach? He is walking arm in arm with Odeta who has said that it will be a waste not to go out on such a wonderful day.

“ _Dragul meu_ , is everything okay? You’re very quiet.” Odeta asks softly as they near a rock that’s very good for sitting and she proceeds to sit next to her grandson.

She smiles softly, the same way in which she only smiles for him and Martin finds himself smiling back.

“Yeah, I guess, I’m just… tired, I suppose.”

“Do you want to go lie down? We can go back.”

“No, it’s fine” he takes her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “It’s just… you know, there was the whole thing with the Flesh avatars and…” he pauses when she frowns, part of him knows that Odeta is just a concerned grandmother and _someone_ , he doesn’t know who but he suspects Peter, has told her about what happened at the institute with the Flesh avatars. He knows Peter wouldn’t do it in bad faith, he probably was just proud about what he did, he told Martin as much when he asked to talk with him right after the fact. “It has been a mess to sort through the disaster.”

“Organizing old papers seems like a waste of you capacities, if you ask me” she says.

“But I’m useful this way” he protests, out of habit, “I’m also not sure what you mean by my capacities, Nana.”

“I heard what you do there, and things like fetching tea and putting stickers on old documents that no one but the Archivist will read are way below what you’re qualified for.”

“ _Qualified…?_ ” he repeats, “Nana, the only reason I got this job is because Uncle Peter convinced Elias to hire me, and more so, it’s because our family funds the institute.”

“Nonsense, I have seen your writing, you’re very talented, _dragule_.”

“You’re my grandmother; you’re legally obligated to say things like that. What is that you want me to do, huh?”

“You could always quit the archives.”

“What?” he takes a moment to take in her words, before repeating, “ _what_? Nana, you can’t just-! I- I like working there!”

“Do you now?” she says, in a way that tells him she already knows the answer. “Martin, you’re all grown up, I, of course, can’t tell you what to do, you can take your own decisions, but listen, I think we both know that you were made for bigger things, I don’t think that place is letting you… grow.”

He also knows that more than once he has felt that he doesn’t fit there, he may have worked a couple years in the library, but what about it? It’s not like he has degrees like the others, only a couple courses to his name. Even now he doesn’t regret not taking the opportunity when Odeta told him Nathaniel would pay for him to do the full six years for him to major in Literature if he wanted. Martin still doesn’t like the idea that he has to still be supported by his family as if he was some poor defenceless child or something. He, who did took as much part-time jobs as he could to support his mother, who only accepted to continue his education when Nathaniel took care of his mother’s care, providing for them both while Martin took his final exams, would never do such thing.

Yeah, working at the institute it’s not exactly glamorous, and constantly seeing Elias, especially after what he did, is not exactly the best, but he gets to see his friends, _to see Jon_ , every day. The archives are peaceful and quiet, sometimes loud when the mood calls for it. It’s a place he has learnt to love, if only for the people that occupy it.

“What about my friends?”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Okay, she may have a point, but Martin can be _very_ stubborn when he wants to be.

“I can’t just quit!”

“You know you’re not tied to that place, right?” she questions, he nods. “And that you can quit if you want”, another nod. “Good, let’s go back, there’s something I have been meaning to talk to you about, but we also need to talk to Nathaniel.”

“What is it?”

“Let’s go, you will see.”

* * *

**April 18 th, Wednesday, 2018, Magnus Institute, London, 8:45 a.m.**

Jon walks towards the archives, his coat damp with the late April rain that has showered London this early grey morning. This week and a half after the attack had been incredibly frustrating; the avatars had woken up with no memory of where they were or why. His week has not been going good either what with the constant feeling of being watched and the fact that it has been _months_ and still he has no idea of what is chasing him, but perhaps things can get better by the end of the day, or maybe he just needs to call Georgie and go hang out with The Admiral to feel better.

He gets into the archives, where the only people in there are Martin and Sasha, exiting the latter’s office with sombre expressions. Jon freezes while removing his coat, oh, good Lord, _what is it now_? Martin stops dead in his track when he spots him and gifts him a shy smile.

“Oh, why don’t you two go have a coffee or something?” Sasha suggests, “I believe that what you two need is to have a little talk.”

Confused, Jon follows Martin into the chill air of the outside, the redhead has an umbrella in his hand, which good, cause he hasn’t brought his own. They walk to a nearby coffee shop they both like, it’s small and cosy, a break from the busy streets of London. Jon asks for a cup of black coffee and Martin asks for a mug of hot cocoa, the latter doesn’t miss the way his companion scans the place before picking a corner booth close to the door. Once they’re sitting down and staring at each other, as if expecting the other to begin, Martin takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and slumping as he does so.

“Jon… I already talked to Sasha about this, so it should be easier but…” he bites his lips.

“Just say it, Martin.”

“I’m leaving the archives.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

The four words taste even bitter than the coffee he was just drinking, Martin… leaving, what does he mean _leaving_? It makes sense; the both of them are not tied to the institute, if there’s anything they’re tied to, that is to their respective patrons. Martin was born for the embrace of the fog in the same way Jon is bound to the Mother’s web, there’s nothing preventing him for leaving the place. He did tell Martin the Extinction will be born whatever they want to or not, no matter how much research they make, maybe that’s making him leave? Well, he did tell Martin a lot of things… freezing, still staring at him; he remembers something his sister said once: _“You have to think what you say better, you know? Sometimes you say things and **I** know you don’t mean for them to sound bad, but not everyone would interpret you the way I do!”_

Oh, god… is his fault that Martin is leaving? Has he said something that upset him?

“Did you want to talk to me because I did something to upset you?”

“What? No! We… we already discussed that, Jon.”

It was even before they went on their first date, back after the Prentiss attack, when he confessed to Jon to which family he belongs to. Jon noticed he said he _took courses_ in the Queen Mary University of London, and a bit later he asked him to elaborate: _Courses, you said courses, but then when did you get your Parapsychology degree? _So Martin saw himself in the embarrassing need of telling Jon that _actually_ , he had no degree to speak of. Jon proceeded to apologise profusely, telling Martin that for someone without a degree his work was very impressive.

“I just feel I can’t really help you guys at the archives anymore” he explains, hands cupping the mug but itching to reach over and grab Jon’s, “I know that we aren’t really, um, trying to get this investigation anywhere, but I feel like I can be more useful to you and the others from outside, if you still want me to help, of course.”

“I see. Martin, I-”, he closes his mouth, before looking right at him and saying softly. “We will miss you.”

“Don’t talk like you’re never going to see me again” he chides jokingly, smiling that sweet smile that Jon now realises he adores. “You’re not getting rid of me _that_ easily.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They drink in silence after that, Martin has a knot in his chest that the warmth of the hot cocoa can’t seem to make go away; he does care a lot about Jon’s opinion. He is still going to do this, of course. He is so caught on his thoughts that he barely notices that Jon has asked him a question.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What are you going to do now?”

He sighs.

“Uncle Nathaniel is planning on doing some investments; I’m… going to work in one of them, here in London. It’s a bookshop”.

“A bookshop?” he repeats, and then smiles. “I can see you running a bookshop; I bet it will even have an extensive poetry section.”

“Perhaps” he smiles back, “and, um…” biting his lip, he stares at his mug, “I wanted to ask you if there has been any news regarding the, um, thing that it’s following you?”

Jon lets out at a tired sigh, but it’s nothing like those little theatrical tired sighs that he does every once in a while and that Martin finds very endearing, but rather a real tired sigh, a sigh that lets him see how much the situation is really weighing down on Jon. Martin knows that, for some reason, Jon tends to blame himself for things he has absolutely no control over, like everything related to Prentiss, or Sasha’s kidnapping by Nikola, and he can’t help but think the spider is just being ridiculous, he is not omniscient, he couldn’t have known about any of that! Plus the moment he had a clear picture of each situation, he did everything in his power to help.

 _Screw it_ , he thinks, before reaching over the table to take Jon’s free hand. The spider freezes for a few seconds, before entangling their fingers together.

“Daisy thinks it may be a Hunter” Jon admits, staring at his coffee. “That would explain why I feel like I’m being followed, especially when I’m at the institute.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I guess I wanted my suspicions of it being Elias to be correct, but I do have an idea of who could it be.”

“Oh?”

“Have you ever been to America, Martin?”

“No? I mean, I have been overseas when I stayed in the Tundra with Uncle Peter, but I have never gone abroad. Have you been to America?”

“Yeah, a couple years ago, Gerry and I were looking for a book.”

“You went to look for a book that far away? What, there’s no British edition?” Jon chuckles at that and a smile blossoms on Martin’s face at the sound.

“It’s a very special book, the only one of it is kind”, he explains patiently, “it’s a book that belongs to The End, it’s called _The Catalogue of the Trapped Dead_ , we have some statements about it, I think, it belonged to Mary Keay” the redhead’s eyes widen upon recognising the name, “yes, as you see, it’s quite unique. Unfortunately, when Gerry had it there were some, um, complications and the book ended up at the institute, but by the time I had started working there it was nowhere to be found, so we went on a wild goose chase to get it back, and we found a pair of hunters” now Martin gasps and the spider can’t help but smile at how into the story the other man is. “We managed to escape, but my sister wasn’t very happy with us.”

“I wouldn’t be too happy with you either. Didn’t you say that hunters are dangerous?”

“They’re, yes. It’s very likely that it’s them who are chasing me, I suppose. I just don’t understand why” he frowns, deep in thought, “we never managed to recover the book from them, we ended up needing Michael’s help to escape them, and then we came back to the UK as soon as we were able” he takes a sip of coffee. “I just wish they would show themselves already and stop playing around.”

* * *

**[Text conversation on the group “Sasha’s minions”, Friday, 06:37 pm]**

**The cute one:** Thanks for the farewell party, guys, it was very sweet!

 **The hot one:** Anything for you, Marto <3

 **The stabby one:** We hope you liked the cake <3

 **Our fearless leader:** and the pun Jon made to go with it <3

 **The grumpy one:** Hey! It makes sense if you think about it for like two seconds!

 **The cute one:** That too <3

 **The hot one:** Now every time I see a Black Forest cake I will remember Jon’s wise words and my brain will go _ah, yes, Martin’s cake_ in his voice.

 **The stabby one:** Jon’s voice in your head, ew. RIP.

 **The hot one:** He has a nice voice though! It’s perfect for reading horror stories.

 **The cute one:** Is that what he is going to be doing in our next sleepover?

 **The hot one:** he could always read one of your poems, right, Jon?

 **The grumpy one:** sure.

 **Our fearless leader:** can someone explain the “Martin’s cake” thing? I wasn’t in the room when he did the explaining!

 **The stabby one:** oh, god, he is typing…

 **The grumpy one:** Originally the Black Forest cake is known as _Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte_ , which comes from the region of _Schwarzwald_ in Germany, meaning Black Forest in the native language, but another translation could also be _Black Woods_ , so, Black Forest cake could also be called Blackwood cake, ergo, it’s Martin’s cake.

 **The cute one:** That’s sweet, Jon <3

 **The grumpy one:** I mean, we _are_ talking about chocolate cake, of course it’s sweet.

* * *

Jon gets into his flat with a tired huff; he is starting to miss riding his motorcycle and is stuck instead with taking the tube everywhere which almost doubles the time it takes him to get home. He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack next to the door. Martin’s farewell party had, of course, been Sasha’s idea, but Melanie bought the cake and he and Tim put the decorations, it was weird to see Tim in the archives after he has spent so many days working on a “project” that involves Beholding knows what, but the redhead had smiled so bright when he saw the decorations and the cake in the table. Remembering now, it makes him smile and he thinks, not for the first time, that Martin is just _too good_ to belong to their world, a ray of sunshine in their otherwise cloudy sky.

It has been long enough that Jon can no longer fool himself saying that what he feels for Martin is a friendship; problem is that he is not sure how to label it yet. He likes to make Martin laugh, to see the way his eyes light up when he is excited or the way their fingers brush each other’s when he brings him a cup of tea during mid-mornings in the archives.

And now, unbeknownst to him, the freckled man has given him a gift.

“Jon, is that you?” Annabelle asks, sitting in the couch a blanket on her lap, she is smiling. “Come sit with me, I have some amazing news to tell you!”

“What is it?” he asks back, smiling at her as he does what he is told.

“Mike proposed to me!”

“Ah, finally” he approves, making his sister pull a confused face. “Some time ago he asked if we could talk alone… he told me what he wanted to do and asked for my blessing, I told him he had it, but that the decision was up to you.”

“Aww, he did that?!” she squeals and Jon can’t help the smile that blossoms in his face at her enthusiasm. “Um, there’s something else, Mike wants to me on a holiday abroad before the wedding! I did tell him that I was going to think about it, though.”

“Why? Did he pick a horrible place or what?”

“It’s not that!” she huffs. “With all that’s happening, I want to stay close, maybe we can reschedule it.”

“You really don’t have to, where is Mike taking you?”

“He is not taking me anywhere, Jon” is her sharp answer, then she looks away, Annabelle doesn’t really have a noticeable blush, lucky her, but he knows that’s the face she pulls when she is embarrassed. “Mike and I were talking and he was telling me about a job he did in Paris once, and long story short he found out I have never left England and wants to take me around Europe and we started planning right away but… you need me here.”

“What _I_ need is for my little sister to fulfil her dream of visiting Paris” he corrects, smiling gently. “C’mon, princess, you always said you wanted to visit France, don’t hold back for my sake. If anything, it’s safer for you to be away, I can always run away to Scotland if things get worse.”

She sighs.

“Are you sure?”

“You already do _so_ much for me, c’mon, go and call Mike; tell him you will go with him.”

Annabelle kisses his cheek and hugs him tight; she smiles as she gets up from the couch. She heads over to her room, saying that she will call Mike so they can start scheduling their trip. Jon sees her go with a slight smile.

* * *

After a dinner, in which more travel plans are discussed, and Jon is happy to see his sister so excited, he sits on the desk of his bedroom, lighting up a cigarette and staring at the two items in his desk, illuminated by the desk’s lamp. Yesterday, Martin finally had to empty his desk in the archives and discovered a hidden bottom on one of the drawers, underneath of which he found a small blue notebook with most of the pages filled up. The others were out for lunch but he managed to show Jon, who was also having his lunch at his desk.

Jon hates keeping things from Annabelle, but he knows she is not quite ready to learn about this.

Jon is not the first spider to work at the Magnus Institute.

The second item on his desk is a picture, a photograph, taken twenty years ago more or less. Jon doesn’t remember the exact day the picture was taken, but he estimates it must have been on a Sunday, if the clothes the little family on the picture are wearing are any indication. Annabelle, then a little girl smiles from the image in her pretty lilac coloured Sunday dress, cradled in Raymond’s arm, while he shyly smiles clutching a book, his first tarantula, then a small spiderling clinging to his shoulder. There’s a fourth person in the picture, a chubby middle aged black woman with long black hair and brown eyes.

Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, he opens the notebook on the first page, where a name has been scribbled in elegant calligraphy: _Emma Harvey_. He hesitates in doing any further reading, because there’s one question he is afraid this notebook may or may not be able to answer.

_Will this tell me why you left us?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have no idea for how long I had the "Martin's cake" idea stuck in my head xD.
> 
> See you soon <3


	7. The Widow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpts from the personal journal of Emma Harvey, years 1997-2000.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warnings:** **Religious imagery, perceived abandonment, emotional cruelty (it’s Elias again).**
> 
>  **Soundtrack:** Darlin’, I’m gone (Mallori), Dream a little dream of me (Mama Cass)

**_14 th June, 1997_ **

_I can’t believe that happened. I’m still shaking with excitement after this afternoon._

_Sorry, this is probably isn’t making any sense; I guess I should start from the beginning._

_A week ago, I met a man. I was doing my work, here at the institute, and I was in a bad mood. I remember this especially because I happened to be doing something I intensely dislike: retrieving files from Artefact Storage to take back into the Archives. I happened to also be wearing a pair of brand new heels that I haven’t really wore before, so it’s no surprise that I tripped and the files went flying everywhere. I started picking them up with ease, nobody ever comes into the hallway that leads into both the Archives and Artefact Storage, so I guessed everything was fine._

_Someone started to help me with the papers._

_“Here” he said when he finished picking them up, offering me a hand; I took it and he helped me up, “are you alright?”_

_“Ah, yes, thank you”, I replied, confused._

_I did not recognise him. He was tall, white, with chestnut brown hair long down to his chin; he had kind brown eyes and dressed like he just stepped from at least three decades ago, a rosary hanged from his neck._

_“Are you here to see the archivist, maybe give a statement?” I asked._

_He laughed, a deep rich laugh that made the corners of my mouth twitch into a smile, he looked like a man who laughed a lot, given the laugh lines and crow’s feet on his face, but despite them he looked so young. I guessed he was around thirty-something or so._

_“No, I’m afraid that, while I do have some business in the Archives, it’s not to see the Archivist, I came here to see Elias Bouchard, the meeting finalised some moments ago.”_

_The hints of my smile disappeared; Gertrude and I are close, close enough for her to tell me about this crazy world we have found ourselves in, for me to know that the kind of men who went into Elias’ office that day are more than meets the eye and I know most of their names: Simon Fairchild, Peter Lukas, Arthur Nolan… but who was this man? I have never seen him before, nor do I recall seeing any statements about someone with his description._

_“I don’t know how you stand Elias” he whispered like we were part of a shared conspiracy, “I try to abide by the good old_ If you can’t say something nice, then don’t say nothing _, but I’m afraid that man loves the sound of his own voice a bit too much”, I couldn’t help it, I laughed and it seemed to make him smile._

_“I have worked under worse”, I admitted with a shrug. “Is this your first meeting with Mr. Bouchard, Mr…?” I left the question hanging in the air, offering my hand for a shake._

_“Mr. Raymond Fielding!” was his enthusiast response as he shook my hand, “But that’s so formal, just call me Raymond please, or better yet, call me Ray, everybody does” the smile ever-present in his face and his voice._

_“Emma Harvey” I answered, “but you may call me Emma.”_

_“Very well, Emma, I do believe these are yours” he handed me back the files and I accepted them gladly. “Oh, I’m so sorry but you have a…” he reached out and brushed of a cobweb from my shoulder, I froze. “I apologise, did I make you uncomfortable?”_

_“No, it’s fine” I said quickly, thinking that I would have to go over to the bathroom to check if they were any cobwebs in my hair, I was hoping that they were going to start disappearing but exactly the opposite has been happening, god, if Gertrude realised… “I, um” I was speechless, unsure of how to politely return to the archives without him realising that I was trying to hide something._

_“I understand that pretending can be hard, Emma” he said and I tilted my head with curiosity, the panic overtaking me turning into confusion. “A temple of the Eye is no place for those who belong to our kind.”_

_I blinked, Gertrude and I had investigated enough for me to know what he was talking about, but did he know what I was? How? I wasn’t exactly embarrassed, it had been my choice, after all, but the idea that someone here in the institute could know, could use it against me… it was terrifying. He smiled calmly and I noticed the small daddy long leg spider crawling up his shoulder._

_And just like that I knew what **he** was._

_And it was exciting._

_“I’m sorry if this sounds weird but, would you like to go out for coffee?” I wanted to get to know him more; I have never encountered someone who had made the same choice as me, someone that was the same._

_He smiled apologetically._

_“I’m afraid I’m going back home to Oxford in the morning, but I would like to keep in touch if you’re amicable to the idea.”_

_I smiled too, reaching into my pocket to retrieve one of those business cards I commissioned when I first started at the institute, with my name and the number of my landline; he took it and pocketed it._

_“We will keep in touch, then” I said and he just smiled._

_Now, I kind of know why I reacted the way I did and I have concluded it isn’t exactly my fault. Raymond is younger than I am, charming and handsome to boot, and at my age not many men come talking sweetly to me anymore. So, it’s no surprise that when a soft spoken gentleman comes up to me offering to get to know each other, I give him my phone number like a lovesick schoolgirl._

_Nothing could have prepared me for what he offered, though, that’s for sure. I had some business in Oxford this week, some leads I needed to follow up for Gertrude, and I decided, why not? Raymond and I had talked a couple times on the phone by this point, he had awkwardly explained to me that he didn’t have a landline in his home, which was strange, but hey, I’m no judge. I have seen weirder in this job._

_On our last phone call I told him about my trip and he asked me if I could perhaps visit him, that there was something he wished to discuss with me._

_Raymond runs a halfway house for teens on behalf of the local Catholic Church, and he also happens to have two kids that he mentioned to me a couple times. I jokingly asked if there was a Mrs. Fielding I should know of, but he simply said_ not yet _and left it at that. I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out what_ that _meant. But I did today._

_“You see, I’m in need of a wife”, I almost spat the tea he had given me when he said that, but I managed to catch myself in the last second. I lowered my cup onto the saucer I was holding over my lap instead and stared at him._

_“Are you proposing to me, Raymond?”_

_“I suppose I am”._

_“Why?”_

_“I told you, I’m in need of a wife. Of course, I won’t expect an answer right away, so I feel like I should let you know, I won’t desire you, and I will not love you, but I will make sure you’re cared for and your needs are met”._

_I blinked, perplexed. There’s only one logic conclusion I could get from this._

_“Raymond, I… I don’t think anyone in our world would say anything if you’re gay, you don’t need a wife. I mean, times are changing, normal people sure are changing from any backwards beliefs they might have”, to my surprise he laughed that laugh of his._

_“I’m afraid I’m not interested in men, but I’m not interested in women either, I’m not sure if there’s a name for it, but romance and sex are not things I partake in”._

_“Then why? I doubt you want me for my company”._

_“That’s an easy question, but I think is only fair I ask you one as well: do you like kids?”_

_“I can’t give you a child, Raymond”._

_“No, no, my dear” my heart did something weird when he called me that, “I’m afraid you’re doing anything but understand me! Like I told you, I already have kids, and I would like you to become my wife and their mother. I have raised them to believe the Spider is their mother, but I would like them to also have a mother who is present and that they can have around, one that cares for them, my daughter Annabelle, would benefit from having a female figure she can look up to, she is eight, she will warm up to you in no time”._

_“You’re asking me to play dollhouse with you and your kids?”_

_“Essentially, yes”. I stayed in silence, unsure of how to proceed. I’m not an old woman, but I’m not a young lady anymore, and I have wanted to be a mother for so long and never got the chance… “I understand, I’m asking for a lot, Emma, and I would like to offer-”_

_“Can I meet them?”_

_Now, he was the one perplexed, he blinked at me and, after a few seconds, smiled. He got up from the sofa he was occupying and walked up to the base of the staircase._

_“Jon, Anna! Can you two please come down?” he called, before he turned to me and smiled again, “there’s someone I want you to meet.”_

**_July 2 nd, 1997_ **

_This is getting hard, I must admit._

_Gertrude kind of knows that I’m seeing a man, she teases me about it. I’m not sure how much she Knows exactly about what’s going on, but I’m too happy to care. The trips to Oxford are starting to be more and more frequent and it would be just easy if my little family just lived in the same town. I think I’m going to suggest to Raymond that we find a house here in London; there are a lot of nice schools for Jon and Anna here, I think they should go to school with children of their same age that they can interact with, I’m not saying home-schooling is bad, but they could use some friends. Plus, Jon already has a friend here! Would it be weird to ask Mary Keay which is the school Gerard goes to so I can enrol Jon in the same one?_

_Sometimes I wonder what Eric would say if he knew how close our kids are, I bet we would be arranging a_ lot _of playdates, Eric was like that._

_It’s also so weird, really, how quickly have those two grown into my heart; I love them as if they were my own. It’s hard not to love them, though, Jon, our little bookworm, is very smart and loves talking to me about the books he has read and Anna, our little weaver, everything I do she wants to copy, it’s completely adorable._

_Last week, Raymond and I had our first “date”, I wore a red dress I haven’t wore in_ ages _and prepared for a day in the carnival, but it turns out that when Ray said_ date _he meant_ family date _and the four of us spent a very fun day in there and took a lot of pictures, the kids were exhausted by the end of the day and their father and I could barely make them have dinner (we had pizza and Ray said it was only because he, quote, “wasn’t ready for me to see him fighting with his daughter to get her to eat her broccoli”) and help them change into pyjamas before they went to bed._

_I’m starting to like my trips to Oxford more and more._

**_August, 13 th, 1997_ **

_I’m in love with Raymond Fielding._

_It’s almost ridiculous how quickly I fell for him, really. I must have realised at some point what my blossoming feelings were and I probably ignored it until the truth of what I feel for him hit me full force._

_In the matter of our love story, we have been talking and, well… Gertrude and I have been friends for a long time, and I want to be there for her, I really do, but that place… it has changed us, probably for the worst. She has turned into someone who would do anything to get her goals, and I’m not really sure how she would react to what I have become._

_The safest bet is to leave that place and Ray is helping me do that. He said he could cut my ties to the Magnus Institute. We are doing it gradually so Elias or, god forbid, Gertrude don’t become suspicious. He has been teaching me how to do that and it’s so easy! I can now cut the threads that bind me to the institute before they can even fully manifest, it’s incredible! Ray still helps me with those that aren’t easy to cut, but he has said that there are less of them each time._

_We had a heart to heart recently; I figured that if we were going to get married and raise Jonathan and Annabelle together he had to know what I had done, what has happened with Fiona… I had to be honest and tell him._

_I did choose to do so on a day in which the kids would be out shopping with Amanda, one of the girls that stay with Ray, so they wouldn’t be around if their father decided he wanted nothing more to do with me. I told him, with eyes full of tears and a chest heavy with nervousness; my tears were running freely by the end of my tale, but not because I regretted what I have done. I didn’t understand why I was crying, until I realised that what I was afraid of was of the possibility that Ray wouldn’t let me see the kids anymore. He just sat across from me, listening intently, face unreadable, but I knew he was considering my words. Unable to look at him anymore I covered my face and cried._

_I heard as he got up and I figured he would just leave me on my own, and then he would tell me his decision, but then I felt a hand on my wrist and a soft tug, Ray had kneeled in front of me, smiling that soft, beautiful smile of his._

_“Pray with me” he said, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek, “pray with me and the Lord will wash away your sins.” I awkwardly explained the real reason as to why I was crying and he blinked at me, confused, before smiling and taking a seat next to me. “Ah, I see. No need for a prayer then, and no reason for you to worry, Emma. Jon and Anna are as yours as they’re mine, after all, here, I want to show you something” he took something from under the papers in the coffee table. “Annabelle made it, look.”_

_It was a family portrait, four people drawn in a childish way with smiles on their faces, one had a hat and what I supposed was a rosary and below it said “Daddy Ray” in my daughter’s handwriting, the other, holding a coloured box that I suppose was meant to represent a book said “Big brother Jon”, the one next to it said “Me!” and holding the hand of that last figure was one dressed in pearls and a red dress, new tears formed in my eyes, tears of a different kind, as I saw it._

_Beneath the woman in the red dress Anna had written: Mummy Emma._

_Later, we were both sat in the couch of the music room (where we decided to have this talk); his arm around me was a comforting weight. Ray said it doesn’t matter what I have done, that we all do what we have to do to please our patrons and he decided that if I didn’t care, then neither would he. In his arms I felt safe and understood, coming to think of it, unlike other men I have dated, Ray is very patient with me; he gives me my space when I need it and values my opinions, I remember fondly a night we spent on a debate about nineteen century literature. Ray sees me as his equal, and I think he likes not being the only adult in the house._

_“I’m really glad I listened to the kids”, he mumbled._

_“What?”, he froze as I turned to look at him, “Ray?”_

_“Well, I’m afraid proposing to you wasn’t exactly my idea…” was the explanation he offered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand, I have never seen him flustered like that before. “I’ve told you before, romance and sex, are not things I do, so, of course those weren’t my intentions when we met, but intimacy and companionship are things I still want and I happen to enjoy your company in particular, Emma, I really do. I honestly had no idea that our calls and the few times we met could be interpreted as romantic, but I overheard Annabelle telling Jon that she wanted to meet_ Daddy’s girlfriend that lives in London _”, I couldn’t help it, I laughed, “and well, you’re a very smart and charming woman, and I figured, hey, maybe it isn’t love, but you know that, just because I don’t love you that way, does not mean that I don’t care about you, right? I care about you, a lot, in my own way, I suppose.”_

_“I love you, Ray, and, don’t worry; I do know how much you care about me!” he smiled and the arm around my shoulders pulled me closer to him._

_How could I not love him? How could I not want to spend the rest of my life with him when I saw how… human he was, how much of a good father he was to our kids and the ones who stay at our house?_

_“Daddy!”, our daughter exclaimed, running into the room and climbing onto Ray’s lap, “Jon and I have a question!” she gestured at her brother, who came more calmly and sat next to me on the couch, making me smile._

_“I shall do my best to answer it, princess” he turned to Jon, “so, what is it?”_

_“What would you have named us? If you had us from the start, I mean, what would have been our names?”_

_“Ah, an excellent question” Ray approves, tapping his chin as if deep in thought, “your name would have_ Stardust _, Anna!” she clasped her little hands, gasping with wonder, I chuckled, “what? I love Bowie and Lady Stardust is a beautiful song, I don’t have to justify myself. As for you Jon…”_

_“Charles” I interrupted, my family looked at me, I just smiled and caressed Jon’s hair, pulling his wavy bangs away from his eyes, “it’s a wonderful name for a young man, it’s French like mine too”, I winked, “plus, have none of you ever heard of Charlotte’s Web?” the kids laughed, and I swear that it has to be one of the cutest sounds I have heard._

**_August, 28 th, 1997_ **

_Ray showed me what he does in the basement of the house, and I fell a little bit more in love with him for trusting me with such a secret._

_We took the kids downtown today for some errands, Ray has told me he doesn’t get out of the house much if it’s not to go to church, but he occasionally takes the kids out to the playground. This time we sat on a wooden bench that probably has seen better days as the kids rushed to the playground, Anna ran straight to the swing set and Jon sat under a tree with one of his books. Seeing as they were preoccupied, I turned to Ray._

_“So, what will be my story?”_

_“Hm, I’m sorry, what, my dear?” the moment he found out that calling me that gets me all flustered he has tried again and again to sneak it in every sentence he is able._

_“My story, Ray, this is a small community, rumours are going to start flying around about the mysterious woman that occasionally visits Mr. Raymond Fielding” I teased._

_“Oh…” he turns to look at our kids, “I suppose you could tie in into Jon’s and Anna’s story… everybody thinks they’re my brother’s kids and that I adopted them because he died…” he turns to look at me again, “you could be my sister in law, you are now a widow, of course, and seeing as I’m taking care of the kids we could say I’m marrying you to take care of the three of you…, but we need something to justify why you have been absent for two years…”_

_“I’m a researcher” I reminded him, “I have been abroad, doing research and I had no choice but to send my babies with their very charming Uncle Ray for him to care for them while I work, how unsurprising that me, a poor widow, has fallen in love with him.”_

_He broke into a grin._

_“My, my, I forget how talented you are, my dear fiancée”, his smile disappeared as he turn back to stare at our kids, before he declared, “tonight, I will tell you their real stories.”_

_I, of course, didn’t understand at first, but I couldn’t ask, because Anna came rushing to us, complaining that she wanted Ray to push her on the swing because Jon didn’t want to do it. The little boy also rushed to us, saying that it’s not that he didn’t_ want _to, but simply that he_ couldn’t _, while complaining that Anna was too heavy. Ray and I just stared at each other as our babies bickered. He took Annabelle to the swing set while a fuming Jon sat next to me, I managed to distract him by asking about the latest book he has read. He has been reading a lot of books about pirates recently and has told me that he wants to dress up as one for Halloween, isn’t it adorable?_

_Later that night, the kids had been excited because our boy had found something: a tarantula, he said it came out of his backpack, meaning it has been with us since a little before we left the house. Raymond told him it meant he had finally chosen his spider, whatever that means, it seemed important so, even if I didn’t completely understand it, I told Jon that I was proud and to pick a pretty name for the spider._

_We went through the usual bedtime routine the kids have when I stay in Oxford. Let the kids brush their teeth, put Annabelle to bed and read her a bedtime story, then go to Jon’s room, who is supposed to have finished preparing his books for his morning lessons and tuck him in bed as well (also make sure he actually goes to bed and doesn’t stay late reading_ again _). Of course, this doesn’t just apply to our little kids, Ray goes to see if the older boys are all in bed, because we have a strict curfew, while I go see if the older girls need anything, they are all very welcoming to me, I think it wasn’t just my little Anna who needed a female figure in her life._

 _And then, Ray and I went to what I have come to see as_ our _room, and we talked for a bit. I was brushing my hair in the little boudoir while he read in bed. When I joined him under the covers, I remembered what he said to me in the park and asked about it._

_I learnt about Mr. Spider. I learnt about the Cane family. I learnt exactly how Jonathan and Annabelle came to be under Raymond’s care._

_By the end of it, I had tears in my eyes and my fiancé had to comfort me, he was holding me and kissing the side of my face (we sometimes do kisses and sometimes we do not). I swear with everything I have that Jon and Anna are **never** going back to those places, they’re mine, mine and Ray’s and our family shall never be apart, we shall stay together where we belong…_

* * *

**Tuesday 1 st, April, 2018, Magnus Institute, London**

“Jon, are you listening to me?”

The man with the spider tattoo looks up from the journal he had been reading, realising Elias is standing right in front of his desk, cocking an eyebrow. It’s not the first time he has zoned out while reading, but he has never been more annoyed at being interrupted.

“What do you want?” he snaps, surprised at how hoarse his own voice sounds. He feels a knot on his throat, emotions long buried in his chest blooming violently at the words written in the pages, he wouldn’t be surprised if he had tears in his eyes.

Elias’ eyes glow faintly and he smiles smugly.

“Ah, I see, is that old dusty notebook all that she left behind? She did that a lot, hm, leave things behind? ”

Jon is not a violent man; more so, he shies away from confrontation whenever possible. He fights his own battles, of course, but honestly prefers pulling strings from the side-lines.

However, everyone has a limit.

Elias just happens to have crossed his.

The older avatar stumbles backwards, until he manages to grasp the edge of Tim’s desk, staring at him with hatred in his eyes. Jon can’t help the strike of pride he feels when he sees the blood pouring from Elias’ nose. It’s extremely satisfactory, the way one of his meals is satisfactory, but it is a completely _human_ satisfaction that makes him feel lightheaded.

“What’s going on, here?!” the one asking is Sasha, coming down the stairs with Melanie and Tim right behind her.

“What did you do to him?” Tim demands to the man in the suit, putting himself between the two men with his back to Jon.

“It’s fine, he just caught me in a bad mood” Jon explains, placing a gentle hand on Tim’s shoulder.

There’s a silence after that. Elias then asks to speak with Sasha in private, she huffs and takes him to her office. Tim and Melanie turn to Jon with concerned expressions in their faces, he simply sighs and tell them he needs to be alone, that he will go for a walk, to clear his head, if he is lucky Elias would already be back in his office by the time he goes back. Neither stops him when he heads out.

While he is walking, he thinks of Annabelle.

Emma is a sensitive topic for his sister, more so than their childhood at Hill Top Road, so he took to reading the journal at the archives where she couldn’t find it, he is of course going to tell her eventually, he just needs to read through the journal first, her reasons must be there, they have to be.

Jon sometimes wishes he could stop thinking at will, wouldn’t that save him from a lot of headaches?

He plugs in his earphones a plays some music as he walks, seemingly aimlessly through the crowded streets of London.

_“He shot for thrills, it's so surreal. He pulls up to take me on a ride. He's so blue, but stays so cool. You can't keep me waiting this time, baby, I'm leaving you tonight…”_

Emma Harvey was the mother Jon and Anna never had. He had always thought that she and Raymond were the perfect match, they just… fit together like pieces on a jigsaw. The bit about his father was new information to him, but suddenly a lot of things started to make sense, and he even remembers an instance, when he was twelve and Raymond decided it was time for him to learn about the birds and bees, he recalls a little phrase that, despite the embarrassment, stuck with him: _Maybe you will like girls, or boys, or both, or even neither, and that’s okay, Jon!_

Remembering now, it makes him smile.

It’s silly, he knows, but there are a lot of things that he remembers with fondness when it came to his parents, for example, he had seen Emma kissing Raymond when she seemed to think nobody was looking, and he had never seen it the other way round, but Raymond seemed to show his care for her in other ways, like draping his own scarf over her shoulders when she had forgotten hers (which happened a lot) and he even recalls seeing them dance to some slow old-timey song in the music room.

His mother, and, yes, even after all these years, even if Annabelle changes the topic as soon as she is mentioned, Jon still refers to her as such. She shared his love for reading and Annabelle’s love for fashion. She often dressed in old-timey dresses and coats that matched Raymond’s outdated jackets and high-waisted trousers. Given what he has read, she wasn’t religious but she still accompanied them to church when she visited on Sundays. She was there when it mattered.

And then one day she wasn’t anymore.

_“Gone, gone, gone. I'm gone just like that. Well just pull the trigger and don't hold your breath. Your love is deadly I'm already dead  
Darlin', darlin' I'm gone. The swing of my hips, a little desire in his eyes, he kept me lit, don't even try. His pleasure, his pain, and his lies  
Baby I'm leaving you tonight. Gone, gone, gone. I'm gone just like that. Run, run, run…”_

The last time Jon ever saw his mother was the day Raymond disappeared and Agnes took over the property of Hill Top Road. A gentle police officer was taking both he and his sister to where his grandmother awaited for them, and from afar she saw her, staring at them. He wanted to call for her, take his sister by the hand and run to her, but she seemed to notice, because she gently shook her head and smiled at him, it was a very sad smile. His grandmother then snapped him back to attention, _Jonathan, it is time to leave_ , she said. He hated it.

He wasn’t _Jonathan_ , he was _Jon_.

He realises where his feet are taking him and can’t help the smile that tugs at this lips, just before a raindrop hits his sunglasses, being quickly followed by another, and then another, and another…

Jon grumbles as he rushes to the end of the street, he is close to his destination anyways, even if he hadn’t planned in visiting, not yet. The place is not exactly eye catching, not if you don’t know what to look for. The octopus painted in the glass door with the Latin phrase is a bit of a dead giveaway, even if, for normal people, it matches the name of the place.

_Lonely Sea Bookstore;_ says the navy blue sign above the door and windows.

He carelessly pulls out his earphones and stuffs them on his pocket before reaching the door of the place; he just hopes it isn’t locked.

It is not.

“Sorry, we are not-… Jon?”

“Am I too early?” he asks back, smiling at Martin, arms full of books he was probably sorting through the shelves, as he removes his sunglasses, folding and placing them to hang from the collar of his t-shirt.

“The grand opening is next week.”

“It never hurts to be too early, I suppose”, his eyes wander around the small cosy bookshop, most of the books are still packed in boxes and some are already on their respective shelves. “The place is coming along nicely.”

“Thank you” the redhead puts the books down on nearby table, before looking him up and down, “you didn’t go to the institute today?”

“What?” then he remembers what he is wearing, “oh, no, I mean, yes, I went today but Melanie and Tim are on a _dress code strike_ and I’m afraid I have been convinced to join their cause. To be honest, Elias has been surprisingly composed about the whole thing so far, but probably the fact that I’m wearing platforms boots and I’m at his height is what did it” Martin laughs and it makes Jon smile.

“I was about to take a break, do you want a cup of tea?”

* * *

Sasha is tired of Elias. She is tired of having to stand him on a daily basis, half of the things he says don’t make any sort of sense, with him talking about _progress_ and _becoming_ , couldn’t he see that her choice had already been made? She is already an avatar, what more could she possibly become?

He can try all he wants, to complain about the cobwebs, to talk about trust and of not truly knowing those around you, he can imply all that he wants, but Sasha can see right through his words.

Elias is trying to turn her against Jon.

If he had wanted her to distrust Jon _so badly_ , he should have done it _years ago_ , when she first met him. So what if Jon was a spider? Elias needs to get on with the program; they have gone over this already! Yeah, yeah, Web servants are not supposed to be trusted and blah, blah, blah, but Sasha knows Jon, she knows the other part of him, the part that matters, _the human part_ , one that she is sure Elias doesn’t knows.

Elias didn’t tell her anything about the entities, Jon did, and the older man only talked about the rituals when it was convenient for him. When she was kidnapped by Nikola and her Circus of freaks, Jon organised a search party while Elias just sat in his office doing absolutely nothing to help her. Jon was the one who had requested her help in getting some files erased from Elias’ personal computer, files and evidence that could convict Daisy and that Elias was planning to use to trap Basira in the archives with the rest of them. He helps in all the ways he knows, and that’s all that Sasha needs to know for her to trust Jon.

She finishes climbing down the ladder to the tunnels, where Melanie and Tim are expecting her.

“I hate Elias” she declares at their expectant faces, Tim nods with an understanding smile and Melanie breaks down into giggles. “He is trying to convince me that we can’t trust Jon, but he is doing a terrible job. Like, he said something about _playing for the same side_ , like what does that even mean? We’re not on his side!”

“It sounds to me like he is trying to imply that Jon is the one on his side” Tim muses.

Sasha blinks.

“I haven’t thought about it that way, wow… that’s… that’s a load of horseshit. Really, that’s the most stupid thing he has said so far-… wait, maybe he was trying to make me doubt so he could get information out of me!”

“That could be it” Melanie agrees, “I mean, neither he nor you can see through Jon’s cobwebs, so it’s obvious he has no idea what Jon is planning, he is probably desperate that he is losing control.”

“Ohh, Jon is going to have quite the snack with that!” Sasha cocks an eyebrow at Tim’s remark. “The Web is also associated with losing control, isn’t it? What I’m saying is, that something Jon can feed his patron on, as he should.”

“Ew, are you suggesting feeding on Elias’ fear? Hard pass. I also don’t think Elias is exactly afraid of Jon, I think he sees him as an inconvenience at most, don’t forget how highly he thinks of himself.”

“With the shiner he gave him today, we should be able to keep Elias away from us for a while. Does anyone know what got him so upset? Jon is not exactly the violent kind” Tim shakes his head _no_ and Melanie shrugs, the Archivist pursues her lips. “Alright, we should ask him when he gets back. Any idea of where he went?”

* * *

“Thank god that Tim was there to stop you from Carlos Vittery-ing Elias.”

“No, what Tim did was stop Elias from re-enacting the brutal pipe murder of Jürgen Leitner on _me_.”

Martin’s laughter echoes through the room and, not for the first time, Jon wonders at how easy it is to make him laugh. There’s a small room behind the bookstore, it has a comfortable two-seat couch, a wooden coffee table with a glass top and a small kitchenette, needless to say everything looks _expensive_ , but Martin has arranged it in a way that makes the space seem cosy, lived in. Taking a sip from his mug, he realises how much exactly has he missed Martin’s tea, no one knows how to make it quite like him.

“So… what exactly did he say that got you so upset?” Jon winces, and then sighs; leaving the mug on the coffee table so he can reach into his jacket, folded next to him and take out the notebook. “Oh, Jon…”

Martin knows about Emma. Jon told him, he was the one who found the notebook after all, he deserved to know. He didn’t know why, but he felt that Martin would understand him and he was right, he stayed next to him that afternoon, in the courtyard of the institute as he smoke a cigarette and told him about her, as he told him that Emma was officially reported missing some time after the Spiral’s attempt at the Great Twisting, before he joined the institute, that he was trying to find her while he worked in Research, that he wanted to know why she left… he even showed him a family picture he always carries on his wallet and Martin smiled at seeing it. _She is beautiful, Jon_ , he had said, and the truthfulness in his words did something funny to him.

“It’s fine; it shouldn’t have gotten me that much.”

“It’s not _fine_ , Jon, he shouldn’t be talking rubbish about your mum!” he is surprised to see Martin angry, but then again, Jon gets where he is coming from, he really does. “Exactly who does he thinks he is?! Someone should say something horrible about _his_ mum; see how _he_ -!

He takes his hand in his, interrupting his tirade.

“You’re right, he is terrible, but can we talk about something else? I don’t want to even think about him right now.”

Martin sighs, his shoulders slumping as the tension leaves them.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, you have your reasons to be mad at him.”

They fall into silence, as silent as can be with the heavy raindrops hitting the small windows at the top of the wall, hands still joined, when a small sound starts behind Jon. He hates how much it makes him jump, but it’s not exactly his fault, the months of being followed are not exactly doing wonders to his mental health and he tells Martin so.

“It’s not really paranoia if they’re out to get you” he reasons, making him chuckle. “Hey, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

That’s when Martin gets up, letting go of his hand in the process and disappears through the little door next to the couch, of what he supposes is a deposit of sorts and where they noise seemed to come from. His phone vibrates twice in the glass of the coffee table and, annoyed, Jon reaches over to check his notifications, it’s a message from Sasha, in the archives group chat asking where he is. He puts the phone on _do not disturb_ mode, he knows the others are just worried, what happened today is out of character for him, but he will deal with that later …maybe.

Martin comes back into the room as Jon is leaving his phone back on the coffee table, the spider turns to look at him and Martin has to bite back a smile when the other man does a double take. In his arms, the redhead is holding a fluffy white ball with ears and a tail, the mere sight of it causes Jon’s eyes to light up like a kid’s that had been reminded that tomorrow is Christmas and Martin can’t help but fall a little more in love with him for it.

“Jon, this is Princess Fanny” he introduces the little kitten in his arms, cradled against his chest, “I adopted her recently, she is deaf, but if you hold her close to your chest and tell her that you love her she understands just the same”, Princess meows, “see? She gets that I love her!” He sits back down next to Jon, “would you like to hold her?” he nods.

The kitten carefully exchanges hands and Martin can’t help but think that if you think Jonathan Sims is a cold man is because you have never seen him interacting with a cat. He carefully places her against his collarbone, and, as if remembering, he takes off his sunglasses, still hanging from the collar of his t-shirt with one hand and then asks Martin to please help him take off the choker he is wearing, so the redhead complies, undoing his friend’s studded leathery choker and leaving it on the coffee table. Once, he does that, Jon just as careful as before places Princess against his shoulder, where she starts to sniff his neck, clearly unsure of the situation.

“Too bad I left my satchel in the archives; I should have a cat treat or two in there.”

“Why are there cat treats in your satchel?” Jon just looks at him, “alright, alright, I get it. Hm, I think she likes you, she usually just… screams when someone that is not me or Uncle Peter picks her up until she is back with me.”

“She is lovely, aren’t you, Princess?” he practically coos at the kitty, who answers with a soft meow and a lick to his neck. “Aw, is she going to be a bookshop cat?”

“No, well, I’m not really sure, I don’t think it would be good for her go to back and forth between here and my flat, and I don’t want to leave her alone here either. Today we are going to the vet for a check-up and vaccines, though” is the explanation he offers, caressing Princess’ fur, her little head is hiding in the crook of Jon’s neck.

“Hey, Martin”, he says after a few silent moments, where the only sound in the room had been Princess’ purrs, “the day you left the archives you told me you needed to tell me something, but we didn’t have time. What was it that you wanted to say?”

“Oh…” his cheeks heat up, “it’s not really important, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s important to you, it seems”, he comments. Damn Jon’s ability to taste lies.

“I… I just wanted to ask you out on another date” he admits, avoiding his eyes, “but uh…”

“Did you change your mind?” was it him or did he sound disappointed?

“What? No! It’s just… I know you have a lot on your mind, what with whatever is chasing you and… did you find out if it was those hunters or…?”

“No, I’m not sure, but you’re changing the subject… were you afraid that I was going to say no?”

“Like I said, you have enough in your plate already, no use in going out if you’re going to be worried all the while. We can go on a date when that’s solved… if you want.”

“I don’t feel like waiting, but I’m free on Friday, if you are too?”

Martin pauses, he hadn’t been expecting that. A smile makes its way past his lips.

“Yeah, we could go somewhere crowded if it would make you feel more at ease? Oh, hey, why don’t you come over to my flat? We can watch a film, or play with Princess or I can make you dinner.”

Luckily, Jon answers him before he can think how blunt that sounded.

“What’s in the menu?”

“Ever had Polish food?” Jon shakes his head _no_. “Great! You will love the _kotlet schabowy_ that I make!”

“It’s a date then…”

* * *

**[Text conversation of the “Institute Plans” group chat, 10:23 am]**

**Archivist:** Alright, I can’t get a hold of Jon, please can everyone text him so he answers the bloody phone?

 **Vindicator:** Jonathan! We see you online, answer!

 **Living Fire:** Hold up, I got you

 **Living Fire:** Jonathan Charles Sims Cane Fielding!

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** The fuck do you want, Gerard

 **Vindicator:** HOW

 **Living Fire:** Dark magic, you’re welcome

 **Vindicator:** ah, fair. Thanks!

 **Detective:** I keep forgetting Jon has a middle name.

 **Vindicator:** he has a _what_

 **Huntress:** A middle name, can’t you read?

 **Forsaken Prince:** you guys didn’t know? Also, don’t worry, he is with me :)

 **Forsaken Prince:** Uh, why is everyone typing?

 **Archivist:** We were worried sick!

 **Vindicator:** we understand you are mad, you had to interact with Elias, but don’t run away from us!

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** I apologise, but I really needed to get out of there. Elias made an… unfortunate comment, I’m afraid.

 **Death touch:** I’m back-reading just now, are you alright, Jon?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** I’m holding a kitten, so I’m feeling 80% better. Martin also made me tea.

 **Slaughterer:** Where did you get a kitten?

**[Forsaken Prince has sent a picture]**

**Death touch:** BABY

 **Vindicator:** what a lovely little creature…

 **Archivist:** and it’s holding a kitten!

 **Archivist:** I didn’t even need the Beholding for that one.

 **Vindicator:** SASHA JAMES WHAT IS THIS BETRAYAL WHY

 **Slaughterer:** Lmao

 **Detective:** cute

 **Huntress:** I’m more of a dog person, but that’s an adorable little animal

 **Vindicator:** are we not going to talk about Jon’s middle name or…?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** My birth name is Jonathan Sims, but Jonathan Charles Fielding is the name Raymond gave me.

 **Vindicator:** may I call you Charlie?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** you may not.

 **Vindicator:** ah, worth a shot. What did he said, Jon?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Well, I figure it’s time I tell you how I came to know about the Magnus Institute…

* * *

**_13 th June, 2000_ **

_I think Gertrude suspects._

_I’m not one hundred percent sure, but she knows something. The good thing is that I’m almost no longer bound to the institute! I just have to last one more month and I will be free to finally go with my family and Ray can finally cut the last threads. We have been talking about me taking a job as a teacher in the local school while he stays home with the kids instead of moving all the way to London and I do like the idea, Oxfordshire sounds like a nice change of pace for me._

_Above everything else, I can’t wait to move in with my babies! It has been a long wait, but being with them it’s totally worth it! Jon is almost thirteen now and Annabelle is eleven, it seems like just yesterday they were ten and eight!_

_After the move is complete and all my things are moved to the house, Ray and I are finally getting married, the kids are excited too. If I’m lucky, we shall have everything done for Jon’s birthday too, Ray and I already bought him something; I can’t wait for him to see it!_

_I packed my bags today to go spend the weekend with them, I have so many plans! Ray it’s supposed to call tonight so we can arrange a few more things he needs me to do in London._

**_14 th June, 2000_ **

_Raymond didn’t call me last night, but I didn’t think much of it, we were going to see each other today anyways. He wasn’t there at the station waiting for me with the kids like he usually does either and that got me worried. I rushed to Hill Top Road, only to find the house full of police officers._

_My husband is missing, nobody knows where he is, but I saw Agnes today and I just know that this is her fault, why? Why now? It’s not fair! Ray more than once treated her like she was part of our family! How dare she do this?!_

_I apologise for the shaky handwriting, I just can’t stop crying and my hands are trembling. I’m sitting in a hotel room in Cowley and I’m drinking, trying to forget what I saw today. It’s not as if Ray and I weren’t prepared for something like these to happen, yes, but still._

_We had everything, papers, documents, custody arrangements. Everything to warrant that my babies would be safe should something happen to us. Our priority was clear: Jonathan and Annabelle have to stay together no matter what. The Cane family was, of course, a definite **no** ; my daughter is **not** going back to that place, to that family, even if it would be easier to make them believe they had always had another son. The person I’m closest to is Gertrude, so that’s a no as well. I suggested maybe sending them with their godfather, an old friend of Ray’s, another servant of the Web named Neil Lagorio, yes, film-maker Neil Lagorio, but his health has not been the best lately._

_There’s still one more person: Rosalind Sims._

_I did not want to send them with her; I wanted my babies to be with me! They should be with me, I’m their mother! However, there is something we neglected to fill in the documents._

_My husband is the one who has the kids’ custody, and since Raymond and I never married, I can’t retain their custody. Nothing broke my heart more than seeing my children going away with that woman, I knew she would take care of them, at least until they were old enough to fend for themselves. Jon noticed me there, his whole face light up in recognition, his eyes shined with hope. It was like a punch to the gut, so I just shook my head and smiled at him, trying to keep my tears at bay as his grandmother took him and Annabelle away._

_Would they remember me? Would they think I left them? Would they know that I’m doing this out of love?_

_You, see, the papers it’s not the only problem I face._

_Gertrude knows and what I don’t know is what she will do with this information._

* * *

Annabelle takes the notebook and, sitting against the headboard, she sniffles, blinking back tears. She gets up from the bed and, tucking the notebook on the crook of her elbow, makes her way to the living room, where she knows Jon happens to be working and listening to music while he does so. He is with what she calls his _collage maker kit_ , because it turns out that blackmail sometimes requires specific documentation that you can’t exactly go and get in legal places. For the looks of it, he seems to be working with passports.

“Jon…?” she calls softly.

He stops what he is doing and looks at her, when he takes note of her red rimmed eyes; he leaves his cigarette in the ashtray and his tools on the table, before patting the empty spot next to him on the couch. She quickly occupies the place, leaving the notebook on the coffee table as well, her head resting against Jon’s shoulder.

“Did you read it?”

“Yes, all of it… she didn’t leave us, Jon, she was trying to protect us” he makes a non-committal sound of agreement, turning down the music slightly and placing an arm around her shoulders. “It does make sense, though, we always wondered why did Grandmother take me in, sometimes she looked at me and it was like she wasn’t sure why I was there. Now, I understand, Mummy and Daddy convinced her to. I guess it’s better than the alternatives.”

“Going with your family wouldn’t have too bad either, not if we were together.”

“True” she agreed, “we could both could have put my sister Lizzie in _so_ much trouble, but I guess going with Uncle Neil would have been fun too!”

“He was too old to keep up with you, you didn’t have to experience yourself having a sugar rush it was honestly terrifying- Ow!” he complains when she gently elbows him in the side.

“That didn’t hurt, you big baby! Says the pot to the kettle much? If I remember correctly, you were the one that will run around the house at full-sprint whenever you got a letter from Gerry.”

“In my defence, I don’t remember _that_ ever happening.”

“Oh, of course you don’t!”

There’s laughter for a few minutes, before it turns into chuckles and finally calms down into silence.

“What do you think happened with Mummy, Jon? Do you think Gertrude… did something?”

“I guess we will never know, but let’s not think about that. Here, I know what will cheer you right up” he offers, turning the music back up, before getting up from the couch and offering a hand.

_Stars shining bright above you, night breeze seem to whisper I love you…_

“What? No, Jon!”

“Yes, Anna!”

Raymond liked musicians like David Bowie and Elton John, while Emma liked bands like The Beatles and singers like Elvis Presley, however, they both loved American Jazz and _vintage_ music and it’s a love that their passed to their kids.

_Birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me…_

Anna lets Jon guide her away from the coffee table and into the middle of the living room which serves as an improvised dancefloor. She rests her cheek against Jon’s shoulder, yeah, their parents may be long gone, but they made sure that they at least had what matters: they still have each other.

* * *

“ _Say nighty-night and kiss me… just hold me tight and tell me you will miss me…_ ” Emma sings, her hands strumming the chords on the guitar perfectly as Ray joins in with the piano. “ _While I’m alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me…_ ” she tries very hard not to laugh when Annabelle, who was trying to dance along to the ballad tries to get Jon to dance with her, pulling on his hand.

“Dance with me, dance with me!” she insists, pouting and using her _puppy_ eyes that are known to make her brother do anything she wants. He sighs and relents, making her cheer as he drags him to the improvised dancefloor she has made in the middle of the music room.

Jon clumsily tries to dance with his sister the way he had seen his father doing with Emma, which honestly both adults think looks completely adorable. Raymond smiles at them, before smiling at his fiancée and she winks, her chest feels so warm and full that she thinks it’s going to burst, she loves the little family they both created so much…

“… _Stars fading but I linger on dear, still craving your kiss, I’m longing to linger until dawn, dear, just sing this… Sweet dreams until sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries all behind you, but in your dreams whatever they be_ … _dream a little dream of me…_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked my characterization of Emma Harvey!
> 
> In case it wasn’t clear, YES, Raymond is both aromantic and asexual, which also means the Fielding family had not one, but TWO aces.
> 
> And yes, “Princess Fanny” is a reference to poet John Keats’s muse: Fanny Brawne. Dare to tell me Martin wouldn’t, I dare you.
> 
> I was very excited to share this chapter with you guys, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3! This was also the longest chapter so far and I'm so proud of it!
> 
> See you soon <3


	8. Project Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odeta has a secret she had hoped to take to the grave, too bad Elias knows it and plans to tell.

**Friday 4 th, May, 2018, London**

The two boys wait by the school entrance to be picked up. They’re a bit away from the group, and it doesn’t take a genius to know why. There are two kinds of people in their class; you have the ones that get on with others, and those who don’t. Callum himself is in the second group, and no one hangs out with him, well, almost no one.

“Are you going to Kate’s party on Saturday, Callum?”

“No, I wasn’t invited, Jake.”

“Me neither! But my mum says I can have a sleepover instead!”

Callum smiles at Jake’s enthusiasm, a bit after Tim made him see that having everyone be afraid of him wasn’t exactly the best of places to be, he saw other guys bullying Jake and decided to step in and intervene, he got two things out of that: a black eye and Jake’s admiration. They’re friends now. _Best_ friends, as Jake tends to insist.

“Should I take my telescope?”

“Sure, Mum says she can make us snacks, and that she can call your Mum if you need her to”, Callum nods, his mum works long hours in the hospital, reason why he spends a lot of time alone at home, but she is still protective and likes to know where he is most of the time, she was really glad to know Callum made a friend. “Oh! Alright, don’t look over now, but I think Caitlyn is looking at you!”

Callum looks out of the corner of his eye, heart beating fast, only to see that Caitlyn is looking at whatever book she happens to be reading, he sighs.

Caitlyn Jones is the most beautiful girl of the class, always with her head on a book, but always answering the teacher’s questions right and always kind to everyone she meets, including a bully like him, everybody adores her and Callum may or may not have a crush on her.

Jake’s mum gets here to pick him up and Callum is left on his own, but it’s not long until he sees Tim’s car parking near the school’s entrance, finally some good news.

Some time ago, a couple made up of a man by the name of Tim Stoker and a woman named Manuela Dominguez came to the Brodie Residence’s door, claiming to be from some sort of project called Starlight, which helped young UK students interested in space. They claimed they had read an essay Callum handed in for school (he recalled that one, it was one he liked writing, but he thought it wasn’t that great), and were impressed by it, enough to offer him a place in the project. Mrs. Brodie was delighted, of course, and allowed her son to meet this eccentric couple.

Callum now knows why he was chosen, and it wasn’t exactly because of his love for space. He doesn’t mind, Tim and Manuela are actually two of the coolest people he has ever met, and the whole space thing is not completely a lie, since Manuela, a scientist, has actually _been_ to space some years ago. They have been teaching him all sorts of things; Manuela has even helped him when he has trouble with his homework, especially with essays, seeing her get completely _enraged_ at the way his Literature teacher instructs the essays to be redacted is hilarious ( _what kind of monster does this? What are these ridiculous directives? I must speak with the principal!_ ). Manuela doesn’t live in the UK, so the one he sees the most is Tim.

He gets into Tim’s car, sitting on the passenger seat with his backpack on his lap.

“How was school?”

“Good, I suppose. I don’t have any homework to hand in”, he shrugs, before turning to look over his shoulder at the backseat, finding it empty. “Where’s Manu?”

“She is waiting for us at the planetarium.”

Today, Tim and Manuela are taking Callum to an exhibit at the planetarium, he is thrilled about it. They talk a bit more on the way there, Callum tells him about his weekend plans with Jake and Tim tells him about the surprise he is planning for his girlfriend. Yeah, he sometimes forgets that Tim has a girlfriend, a woman that Manuela refers to as _that girl_ , because, for what he has been told, the patron she serves opposes to the one they serve. Oh, yeah, there’s that too, Callum has been marked by a _Fear God_ , who people refer to as _The Forever Blind_ , _Mr. Pitch_ , or simply _The Dark_. In his eyes, everything sounds cooler than that last one.

“If you’re going to choose, then you will choose while knowing what you’re getting into!” Tim had declared the day Callum learned about what they referred to as _Smirke’s List_.

Tim parked near the planetarium and they started walking towards it. Callum looks over at the man, carelessly walking with his hands on his pockets. He pursues his lips; perhaps he can help him solve his little problem?

“Tim, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“There’s this girl at school that I… that I _really, really_ like…” he started.

“ _Oh_ , I see. What’s her name?”

“Caitlyn, Caitlyn Jones” his cheeks heat up. “She’s very smart and very pretty too, but I don’t think she likes me, she probably thinks I’m a bully.”

“Has she said that?”

“Um, no, I don’t think so? We don’t speak much…” he frowns, huh, he hadn’t thought about _that_. “She doesn’t talk much in general, she is always reading or with her friend Amelie, the problem is that I don’t know how to talk to her?”

“It’s very easy, here’s what you need to do… you said she likes to read, right?” he nods. “Alright, all you have to do it’s this: wait until you see that she is reading, then you approach her and say _Hi, what are you reading?_ ” Callum nods again, more eagerly this time. “Once you asked that, it should be a piece of cake, ask her to tell you about the book, things like, hm let’s see… ah! Ask her who her favourite character is, or her favourite scene, does she read other books by the same author? And make sure to pay attention to her answers.”

They finally reach the planetarium, where Manuela is waiting; in a pretty cream coloured dress, a black sweater, and her ever present sunglasses on. She warmly welcomes Callum, given that, as previously stated, it’s not often that they see each other.

“Ready for the show, boys?”

* * *

Tonight has to be perfect. That’s the only thought in Martin’s mind as he cleans around the flat _again_ (he had already cleaned the whole place up and down, but it never hurts to double-check), waiting for Jon to show up. They agreed on meeting here at six-thirty p.m., so dinner is already warming on the oven, dessert on the fridge and the film is ready to be played. Princess is sleeping curled up on a ball over a crocheted throw blanket in the couch. He smooths the table cloth and then adjusts the lapels of his dress shirt.

Martin moved from his flat after the Prentiss attack, there were too many nightmares and too much paranoia to be comfortable there. Luckily for him, his landlady also owns the flats on the building across the street from his and it was a matter of talking with her to arrange for him to move there. It was a bit more expensive, yes, but he managed to secure one of the flats on the tops floors. His new flat has the perk of an exterior wall completely made of glass, which is one of his favourite features… he wonders if Jon would appreciate the view? The sun is starting to set, casting an orange glow over the flat, but maybe deeper into the night, when the city lights turn on, they can enjoy the view.

A knock sounds through the flat and Martin turns on the lights and walks the short distant from his kitchen to the door.

There you have him. Jon is standing there, casually resting his forearm on the doorframe and holding a bouquet of sunflowers in his free hand as he smiles up at him.

“Hello, Martin.”

“Hi!” he practically squeaks, before clearing his throat. “Come in.”

“These are for you” he says, handing him the flowers before stepping inside.

“They’re beautiful, thank you.”

Martin closes the door behind him, taking the sunflowers and temporarily putting them on a jar, because he doesn’t have a vase at hand, while Jon takes off his combat boots. Princess seems to have noticed the draft coming in, because she has left her spot on the couch to come greet Jon, noisily meowing for pets, Jon bents down, joints creaking as he does so, to oblige and run a hand through her fur.

“I brought her some treats, is it okay if I feed her?”

“Sure, but be warned, she is pretty picky.”

Princess accepts the treats easily enough and purrs at Jon like he has known him all her life as she licks his fingers, which, honestly, warms Martin’s heart. Jon goes into the bathroom to wash his hands as Martin sets up the table and the meal. At first they just talk, mostly about things like how is Martin’s bookstore coming along, and how things in the Archives are. The spider confides in the redhead that Melanie has been saying that they’re lucky that Jon “won the custody battle over the organisation system”, which makes Martin laugh.

“She is not wrong though, we did come up with it together.”

“More like you did the hard thinking and I bought the stickers for the folders.”

“You still collaborated!”

“Yes, yes, I suppose, what is this dish called again?”

“ _Kotlet schabowy_ , it’s, ah, a family recipe, my grandparents used to make this all the time, is a very traditional dish in Polish cuisine.”

“Polish?”, he repeats cocking an eyebrow. “I thought you said your grandmother was Romanian?”

Martin laughs when he understands what has him so confused.

“No, no, you see, this is my maternal grandfather’s recipe” he explains. “Grandpa Blackwood is Polish, Nana Lukas is Romanian.”

“Ah, I see… do you know any Romanian recipes as well, Martin?”

“A couple soups, yes, and Nana tried to teach me how to make tara paine, it’s like bread but more complex. What about you, got any family recipes?”

“My father baked a lot” he shrugs with a smile, “sweet things mostly, bread and butter pudding, biscuits, pancakes and the like, Mother was the one who tended to cook more complex meals, she was the daughter of French immigrants so that was a lot of what she cooked. She made amazing flapjacks too.”

Martin can’t help but smile at Jon’s enthusiasm as he talks about his parents. He knows Jon is not ready to tell the others yet, even if together they can probably finally put an end to the mystery that is Emma Harvey’s disappearance, it has crossed the redhead’s mind that perhaps he doesn’t want for the mystery to end afraid of what may be waiting for him inside of the metaphorical mystery box.

After finishing and picking up the table a bit, they settle on the comfortable couch of the living room, where Martin turns on the movie as he places two plates with _Karpatka_ cake in the coffee table. Princess immediately jumps in and tries to nibble at one.

“No, no, no” Martin chides softly, picking her up, “no cake for the cat, stop that.”

“I have another treat if you want to keep her occupied while we have the cake.”

Said and done, barely five minutes later they’re sitting with their cake slices, while Princess nibbles on a cat treat next to Jon in the couch. They’re watching a Disney film, which is fine by Martin, given the horror story they happen to live in. Surprising no one, they’re watching Alice in Wonderland.

When the plates finally lie empty on the table as Princess sleepily purrs away, curled up into a ball in Jon’s thigh as he pets her behind the ears absentmindedly, Martin looks at him, really looks at him. He looks more relaxed that the redhead has ever seen him and he fills a tinge of pride at being the one who caused that.

“Can I put my arm around your shoulders?” His cheeks heat up as he realises that he has asked impulsively, clumsily, just like always. Jon cocks an eyebrow at him. “Ah, it’s just that I- ah, I know you don’t like being touched? I didn’t want to make your uncomfortable.”

Martin is starting to wonder if there is anything supernatural involved in his interactions with Jon, he can’t possibly be this tactless and _dumb_ every single time, can he now? But Jon just smiles, picking up Princess, who protests loudly at being moved, but settles once he cradles her against his chest. The spider moves closer until he is against his side, before grabbing his arm by the wrist and putting his freckled arm around his bony shoulder.

“I’m comfortable with us staying like this” it’s the reassurance the man gives. “Thanks for asking”, he manages to smile in response. “Actually since we are here, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about…”

And, film forgotten, Martin listens. He listens as Jon talks about how dangerous things are getting and how _not knowing_ what it even is that is chasing him is driving him _crazy_ , to the point that he gets irritable and snappy every time he is on the street and how even the _Institute_ of all places seems _safe_ from whatever is lurking just outside of where he can reach it. Jon admits that is not only him who is affected, because he is even considering surviving members of The Circus as the culprits; it would make sense, maybe they are trying to avenge Nikola, except that was the wrong thing to suggest because now Tim is paranoid as well and has the worry dialled up to eleven. Daisy is also worried since Gerry suggested it’s a pair of hunters they and Jon met on America, because _nobody touches her pack_. So, clearly Jon can only do one thing.

Jon is leaving England.

“Not forever”, he promises when Martin tries to question him, staring intensely into his eyes. “Just for a while…”

 _Take me with you_ , the redhead thinks, _let’s leave together_ , he doesn’t say.

“Would you let me know you’re safe?”, he says instead, voice low and broken. He has no right to ask that, he knows, pining over someone for years does not entitle you to anything, but the mere idea of Jon, away and alone, probably not safe, breaks his heart. Martin can handle loneliness; he was made for it, _born_ for it, _from_ it, but what about Jon? Would he be okay over there alone, with no one to turn to?

“Of course, _my prince_ ” and that silly nickname makes something warm and heavy bloom in his chest. _Yes_ , he wishes he could say, _yes, I’m your prince._

Jon leaves a bit after the film is over, though Martin doubts either of them were really paying attention to it anymore. Tomorrow morning Annabelle and Mike are starting to prepare things for their wedding even though they won’t get married just yet, and Jon wants to be there to help his sister. It is fine; he himself has to go to Kent in the morning, just like any other Saturday.

Martin cleans up a bit around the flat before going to bed, barely past midnight. He stares at the lights outside the glass wall as he lies in bed, covered up to his chin as he thinks about tonight’s events. He barely registers Princess climbing up to him (she has sadly learnt how to sink her claws on the bedspread and no longer requires his help to climb up) until she is nuzzling his arm and then his wet cheek, huh, weird, he hadn’t realised he was crying.

“Would you miss him?” he asks, holding her close to his chest, she gives a sad and low meow. “I- I think I’m going to miss him too.”

* * *

**Saturday 5 th, May, 2018, Moorland Manor, Kent**

The Lukas Estate holds several hectare of property, there are places within it that not even employees that had worked there all of their lives are aware of. This is one of those places. There’s a cellar door hidden at the back of the chapel in the graveyard. It leads down, down, down, into what can only be described as a catacomb. Of course, the members of the family are buried either in the aforementioned graveyard or the mausoleum, but below the chapel it’s this place full of dust and bones, where the air is stale and the old fashioned gas lamps are the only thing illuminating the room, bathing it in a golden splendour.

Their family has a tradition. Once a Lukas has secured a first victim, proving themselves worthy of the greatness of their family, their name must be placed in a golden plaque and the bones of said victim must be placed beneath it.

Odeta herself does not possess the ability to cast people into The Lonely, but that does not mean her shelf beneath the plaque with her name is empty. The only thing there is a skull and a gold wedding band.

Whoever takes as the head of the manor must make sure the catacombs stay in pristine condition, and is a work that cannot be delegated, cannot be done by anyone but a true believer of The Forsaken, Odeta has always taken her position seriously. So, she walks the last steps into the catacombs, gas lamp in hand, being greeted by the sight of the yellowed old bones, some newer than others. Per her own habit, she wanders over to her shelf and slightly caresses the skull there, just a soft caress beneath the eye socket.

“Hello, sotul meu.”

Her husband August is buried in the mausoleum as is traditional but, it’s known in their family that everyone blames her for the fact that August never came back from the fog, she knows that everyone counts him as her first victim, and as such his skull has been placed here as a reminder.

It’s not a knowledge that burdens her, but rather one that empowers her.

Walking over to an empty shelf with a dusty slot for a plaque to be placed, she smiles as she reaches into the cardboard box she has brought along, where a small golden plaque lies. It slides into the slot with a satisfying _click_ , Odeta smiles at it, hands on her hips and admiring as the name _Martin K. Lukas_ glints in the dim light.

“Odeta?”

“Hello, Nathaniel, fancy seeing you here.”

“Just came down to… well, see for yourself” he places an elegantly carved and heavy looking box on one of the empty shelves. “Martin was right; they were on Elias’ office.”

Odeta’s breath catches in her throat in a mix of surprise and anticipation, and Nathaniel can’t help but smile at how her eyes light up, he makes a show of opening the box slowly to reveal the contents that lie within. The yellowed old bones, not unlike those around them, seem to be made for this place. Carefully, very, _very_ carefully, she picks up the skull.

“Welcome home, Mr. Bennett.”

As Odeta closes back the box, yes, it’s exciting that she will be the one to place these bones in the empty shelf beneath Mordechai’s name, but she also still has to place the ones for Martin’s shelf! Nathaniel is clearly taken aback by this.

“I was under the impression that Martin’s victims were still alive”, it’s the confused answers he gives.

“They’re alive, yes; dragul meu wouldn’t have it any other way! They also are servants of The Flesh, so they don’t need their bones anyways. Mrs. Angela was rather helpful in getting these for me, she said it the least she could do after her kids attacked the Magnus Institute.”

It’s of course not a complete skeleton, most of the bones those two had are not their original ones, but it’s okay, as long as she gets to place some on her beloved grandson’s shelf.

“Odeta, you must know that Elias is not happy about me retrieving those bones, according to him they were a _gift_ from Mordechai Lukas to Jonah Magnus” Nathaniel explains, arms crossed, he would prefer not to sour Odeta’s mood, she lights up like a chandelier every time Martin proves further more how much to their family he belongs, but this is a conversation that must be had. “He implied that he knows your secret…”

She stops.

“Which one of them?”

“It’s Elias, Odeta, vessel of The Watcher, he knows them _both_.”

Her lips are tight thin line as she stares at the bones in front of her.

“Peter, Martin, the girls… do you think they would think less of me if they know that… that Peter isn’t-…?”

“We both know that only of them has an opinion that matters to you, and he loves you so unconditionally that I don’t think he would bat an eyelash” Odeta smiles, “ _but_ I’m not sure how kindly he would take to finding out you visited Mauve the night before she died.”

She sighs, arms dropping to her sides, she feels a sudden tiredness, like all she wants to do is go back to the manor and take a very long nap until dinner time, but, alas, it’s very early in the morning and she has to welcome her grandson today, just like any other Saturday. Instead, she walks up to Nathaniel, placing her hands on his shoulders, but not meeting his eyes as he, in turn, places gentle hands on her arms, as if to push her away. He doesn’t.

“Both of these are secrets that you have helped me keep in the shadows for a very long time, Nathaniel, I think it’s time I free you from these chains.”

“I would do anything you asked me to, you know this, I’ve never been able to say _no_ to you.”

“I know” she allows herself to smile, before the smile disappears, “I think it would be good, _for both of us_ , if we clear these things up with both Martin and Peter, I refuse to let Elias manipulate me to his whims”, for some reason, this makes Nathaniel laugh.

“That’s the Odeta I know…” he approves, taking her hand and pressing the hint of a kiss to her knuckles, she stares in surprise. “I will leave you to your… decorations, I will go to the study and call Peter, tell him to go get Martin today.”

* * *

When Martin comes to greet her, Odeta is tending to her plants in the flower scented air of the glass winter house, his greeting is warm, as always, but she can see an edge of _something_ on his behaviour, so, she sits him down in a wooden bench, next to the white roses she has managed to grow this year. If she is going to tell him and Peter the truth, she can’t do it while Martin is sad.

And Martin confides in her that he had a date last night. A date with that young man of The Web he is so smitten with, he tells her that he will leave England and how ridiculous he feels for wishing they could run away together.

“Then why don’t you?” she says.

“What?”

Martin can’t just drop everything and run away to Scotland with Jon, he has responsibilities (things like running the bookshop and taking care of Princess) and what about his family here?

“Whatever is chasing Jonathan cannot be stronger than a member of our family; it wouldn’t be hard for you to protect him, probably winning his affections while you’re at it.”

“ _What?_ I don’t want to keep him safe for him to fall for me; I want to keep him safe because _I care_ about him!”

“Then tell him so.”

“It’s not that simple, Nana!”

“It could be, if you stopped spiralling down _what ifs_ and just tell him how you feel about him.”

“Alright, let’s say that I _do_ tell him, what happens when he says he just wants to be friends, huh?”

“Think about it the other way, what happens when he says that he reciprocates your affections?”

“I’m not that lucky.”

She huffs, abruptly getting up, hands on her hips and Martin winces, realising he has probably annoyed her with his ridiculous worries, the old woman just stares at him for a few moments.

“Which patron do you serve?”

Oh. This he can answer. He straightens on his seat, squaring his shoulders.

“I serve The Forsaken.”

“Which is your title, servant of The Forsaken?”

“I am the Forsaken Prince.”

“And what are you, Forsaken Prince?”

Ah, he can see where this going now.

“I am a Lukas, I am royalty.”

“Exactly, that’s what you’re, you are one of the heirs to Mordechai Lukas legacy, you can’t think so lowly of yourself. Plus, what if he doesn’t reciprocate your affections? At least then you will know! Think about it my way one more time: what if he _does_ like you or even love you? What if he has the same trouble expressing himself as you? Perhaps that’s it, surely he must realise how above him you’re, _because you’re a prince_ and next to you he is _nothing_ ,” Martin winces at that. “Don’t pull that face! You’re a Lukas, and what do we do when we want something? _We take it_.”

“Okay, _first_ , he isn’t _nothing_ , and if you’re going to be like that, I’m not going to introduce him to you!”

“Ah, so we’re talking about introducing him to me now?”

Martin stutters, making her laugh, he glares at her and she returns the gesture, before the both of them burst into laughter. She then proceeds to take him by the hand and lead him out of the place.

“There’s something we need to talk about, let’s go join Peter and Nathaniel.”

And Martin’s worry immediately spikes up.

The place chosen for their talk is none other than the family domain. The familiar sound of the waves crashing against the seashore does put him at ease a bit. He follows Odeta, their steps echoing in the empty beach. She stops shortly before reaching the two men who wait as she sees two more figures with them; Martin almost crashes into her due to the suddenness.

“Michaela, Natalia?” Odeta asks realising it’s her granddaughters who are accompanying Peter and Nathaniel. She frowns at the tear tracks on their faces. “What happened…?”

“Do you remember that bloke I was dating?” Natty asks back voice hollow, while Micah is sniffling. She nods. “And do you remember the one Micah was dating?”

“They were the same fucker!” Micah completes. “I feel so stupid…”

“I would have backed up if I had known you had feelings for him” Natty says.

“If I had known that he would do this to me, to _us_ , then I wouldn’t have dated him in the first place!” she roars, even as the black mascara continues running down her cheeks.

“I would like to _speak_ with this young man” Peter grumbles.

“Yes, I believe you should do that” Odeta approves, “but first I would like to have a chat with everyone. I may have a secret to confess” this prompts everyone’s attentions to turn to her, so she explains what price bringing Barnabas Bennet’s bones to the manor has cost them. She turns to look at her grandson, sadness in her eyes. “One of those things he wants to extort me with is that I visited your mother the night before she died…”

“I thought you and Aunt Mauve didn’t like each other?” Micah speaks up, causing her family to look at her. “What? We all thought about it!”

“Why did you go see her, Nana?”

“I wanted to convince her…” the old woman admits.

“Convince her?” Peter repeats, “to do what, pledge herself to The Lonely? Martin freezes at his words.

“No” Odeta sadly shakes her head _no_ , “it wouldn’t have worked, she was too sick” she bites her lips, reaching over to take Martin’s hands and letting out a sigh of relief when he doesn’t flinch away from her. “She wasn’t my family, but we were both _your_ family, and family should be buried in the family grounds. It was my way of saying thank you.”

Martin looks at her, blinking as he tries to process that his grandmother tried to convince his mother to allow for her to be buried here in the estate, which is, honestly, _really_ weird, but he also knows that when it comes to him, everything Odeta does is out of love.

“Saying thank you for what?” his words escape before he can properly filter them, he realises he sounds afraid.

“We didn’t agree on a lot of things and I’m sure she hated me, but…” she lifts a hand to cup his cheek. “How could I hate her? How could I hate the woman who has given me the most precious thing I have in my life?” he feels a hint of warmth as the first tear rolls down his cheek, but it’s nowhere near as warm as Odeta’s gentle touch as she wipes it away.

Behind them someone sniffles.

“Sorry, sorry” Micah apologises, wiping her own nose with the sleeve of her denim jacket when Odeta turns to look at her with a cocked eyebrow. “I’m just very emotional right now.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell us, Mother?” Peter asks, clearly uncomfortable by the sudden vulnerability all around him, he places an unsure hand on Micah’s shoulder and she smiles up at him.

“I mean, she wouldn’t have to be telling us anything if that husband of yours knew how to keep his bloody mouth shut.”

“Leave it, Nathaniel, what I am going to say next it’s something Peter deserves to know.”

“Well, then just said it, mother.”

“August is not your father, Peter.”

There are gasps and then a silence fills the place, only interrupted by the crashing of the waves and the whistle of the wind. Peter looks paler than usual and Odeta waits for his reaction. Martin is staring between them all, waiting for something to happen, while Micah blinks, mouth open in stupor and Natty stares expectantly at her uncle.

Peter has prided himself about his lineage all his life, of being not only his father’s son, but also a direct descendant of Mordechai Lukas himself, and now it turns out that he is not the son of the Forsaken King? But… then _who_ is his father? He never met the man, he got lost to the fog when Odeta was pregnant with him, her youngest son, the prodigy, the favoured one, or that’s what he has been told at least. Who is his father, someone on the staff at that time, one of his siblings’ tutors, or even someone from outside?

“Am I not a Lukas?”, despite his efforts to keep his voice in control it still sounds barely above a whisper.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous” she scoffs, and even if Peter doesn’t see her, she frowns at him, before her shoulders slump as she grips her arms, taking a deep breath, steeling herself for the next part. “You may not be August’s son, but you’re still the son of a Lukas man, one that descends directly from Mordechai Lukas, just like your father, isn’t that right… Nathaniel?”

Everyone turns to the older blond man, who is wearing a scowl on his face. He steps closer, wrapping an arm around Odeta’s shoulders.

“What?”

“What?” this time is Martin who says it.

“Shut up!” Micah exclaims, hand flying up to cover her mouth, “you and Uncle Nat, Nona?!”

“Oh, my god…” Natty manages to whisper, frozen.

“We were young, Peter” he explains, “and, well, I’ve never been able to say _no_ to her. When Odeta told me she was pregnant with you I wanted… I wanted to do the right thing, but my mother was a very strict woman, if she had found out that she was expecting a child that wasn’t August’s she would probably have kicked her out, even if the child was still her grandson.”

“That’s not fair” Martin complains, Odeta gives him a fond look, smiling, “and, to be fair, it’s not because I am biased, it’s because it’s a messed up thing to do and, even if he’s not grandpa’s, Uncle Peter would still have been a Lukas, wouldn’t he?”

“He is a Lukas” Nathaniel reminds him.

“He has _always_ been a Lukas, and will always be” Odeta declares. “Peter…”

“It’s fine, mother, I guess I understand”; he says, “it’s a surprise, yes, but it’s not like I met fa- _August_ for me to _miss_ him” he chuckles. “If Nathaniel is my father, then fine, though I do admit that it would have upset me if Elias was the one who told me, thanks for being the one telling me I guess.”

Silence overcomes the place.

“…Nona?”

“Yes, Natty?”

“I think it was very badass of you to come out with your secrets so Elias couldn’t use them against you.”

“Thank you, Natty.”

* * *

**Monday 7 th, May, 2018, London**

“So, about that young lady that you like…” Tim prompts, plastic spoon sinking in the ice cream in front of him at the table, Callum on the other side of it, blushes, hiding behind his own.

Callum just got out of a soccer match, he usually doesn’t see Tim on Mondays, but his mum had an extra shift at the hospital and couldn’t attend to his game, so he asked Tim and Manuela to come instead, his mother seemed relieved at the change of plans and agreed on the condition that they would come over for dinner afterwards. His team won, so Manuela decided to treat him to ice cream.

“Is there a young lady you like?” she comments, surprised, Callum feels his cheeks heating up even more. “My, what is she like?”

The young boy pauses, looking with a frown at his ice cream, as if looking for answers, before perking up and saying.

“She is so cool, Manu, she reads books with _dragons_ on them!”

“Well, she surely sounds nice” she smiles encouragingly. “Oh, is she the one having a birthday party sometime soon?”

“Yes! I don’t know what to give her yet, though… I want to get her something she would really like!”

“I can help!” Tim eagerly volunteers, before leaning on the table, as if they were discussing some sort of secret mission, “we can do a list of things you know she likes and go from there, yeah?”

“I would like to help too; may I suggest some anthologies for her to read?”

* * *

**Tuesday 8 th, May, 2018, London**

Martin walks with a skip on his step through the streets of London, it’s early in the morning with a little chill in the air, it’s a work day but the streets are still uncrowded and somewhat peaceful, and he likes it that way. It is spring, but nobody seems to have thought of informing the weather with it’s big cloudy skies and slightly colder than usual breeze. It will probably improve by the time lunch rolls around.

Today is the Grand Opening of Lonely Sea Bookstore and he is beyond excited. He had handed some flyers around the institute and prepared a great book display which featured several personal favourites and all of his friends and some members of his family (Peter is overseas and Odeta never leaves the manor, but they both sent their well wishes for the event) had told him they would attend.

As he is reaching the bookstore, he realises _someone_ is already waiting by the door, he doesn’t recognise him, not at first, but as he gets closer he starts to do so, because he would never forget what that particular leather jacket with The Clash patches and pride flags looks like, that’s the very same which he had slept next to the night of the Unknowing (and Martin is sure he will die of embarrassment if Jon ever finds out about _that_ ).

Jon’s eyes look to the side, finding his and rooting him to the spot. Those dangerous and warm brown eyes light up upon finding him and Martin’s heart start beating faster at the sight. The spider takes one last drag of his cigarette, before dropping it to the sidewalk and stepping on it with the tip of his steel-toed boot, and then he straightens from where he was leaning against the wall and smiles at him.

“Good morning, Martin.”

Three words, just three damn words and Jon has Martin by the heart. He does know how pathetic that sounds, but, hey, as long as Jon doesn’t know. Jon is still smiling as he removes one of the earphones he was wearing.

“Go-good morning to you, Jon!” he stutters as he walks over to meet him, smiling all the while. “Don’t you have to be at the institute?”

If that sounded rude to Jon, he didn’t show it, instead he smiles.

“No, not today, I have some business to attend outside the institute, including a visit to my local bookstore” here he gestures to the building behind them. “I did promise the owner that I was going to be his first client the day of the Grand Opening, you see.”

“Well, sort of rude of him to keep you waiting then, let’s go inside.”

Once the lights are on and the kettle in the back room is set, he goes to the storage room; the one Princess had been sleeping in when Jon visited the first time, to go fetch a book. _Sonnets of Dark Love_ reads the purple cover.

He really hopes that Jon hasn’t read anything by Federico García Lorca yet.

* * *

**Thursday 8 th, May, 2018, Magnus Institute, London 9:33 am**

Sasha hands out some little boards for her friends to write in with markers, she has been testing her limits again, trying to see exactly how much can she know before her head spins with the beginnings of a headache, Tim has already told her to _stop that_ because he hates seeing her hurting and being unable to do anything about it. However, everyone has agreed to this little game, she will be asking questions (trying to control herself as to not compel them), they will write down their answers and then she will try to guess them, or rather, try to Know them. Gerry is here today too, since they expressed wanting to help Sasha with her powers as much as they’re able to. Martin will also be joining them today.

Jon and Gerry are sitting in the former’s desk, while Melanie and Tim sit at their respective desks and Martin does so at the desk that used to be his. Once everyone is sitting down and with boards and markers at the ready, she asks the first question, one she reads from one of the little paper squares they had prepared for the occasion.

“What is your mother’s maiden name?”

There’s a bit of a pause, Martin tells her he will be writing down his Nana’s maiden name, since she already knows his mother’s. Jon awkwardly asks which mother’s maiden name should he write down… biological or foster? She told him to write down whatever he is comfortable with. She gives them thirty seconds to write down their answers, before she does her thing.

Sasha has found she can concentrate better if she covers her eyes and tries to _See_ with them closed.

“Hiroko Akiyama…” she murmurs thinking of the lovely woman she had the pleasure of sharing a dinner with some nights ago, when her boyfriend decided to formally introduce them, and smiles when Tim cheers. Next she sees the image of a woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile, “Chun-Fen Lin”, now it’s Melanie’s turn to cheer. A woman at the beach, her greyed auburn hair blowing in the breeze as blue eyes stare at the waves, “Odeta Gheata” she wants to giggle at Martin’s little _yay!_ Next is a woman with a cruel expression, she has a shaved head and tattoos all over her visible skin, her eyes are cold and determined, “Mary Keay…?” she has to be wrong… but, no, there are a few gasps and Gerry just utters a little resigned _yep_.

“Your mother is Mary Keay?!” she hears Tim exclaim.

“Have we not addressed this?” it’s the reply Gerry gives him.

Sasha frowns, hands still over her eyes, as their conversation continues, Jon has not really told them much about Mrs. Fielding, just that she worked at the institute and she was engaged to Raymond (engaged but never married which resulted in _a lot_ of custody problems). Something _nudges_ at her to look closer, so she gives in. Ah, there she is… a woman with a kind smile, reading from a book, but then the image changes into one where the woman is on this very same room, speaking to… oh, god, is that Gertrude?

“Emma Harvey?” the name effortlessly escapes her lips, and it seems like it halts their conversation, slowly, she removes her hands from in front of her eyes.

“Yes, that would be Mum.”

“Your mother was one of Gertrude’s assistants?”

“I’m sorry, _what_?” Tim says.

“Hold up” Sasha requests, standing up and marching into her office. When she and Melanie found Gertrude’s laptop under the floorboards she also found a picture, a Polaroid with four people on them. One of them a woman who wasn’t Gertrude, one of them the woman she just saw. Her friends peek curiously at her when she comes back and presents the picture to Jon. “Gertrude had this with her laptop… is this her, your mum, I mean?”

“Yes, that’s her… and that’s Michael before he became part of The Distortion” he explains, pointing to the tall blonde man at a side of the group.

“And that’s my dad!” Gerry points out to a man with sandy blond hair and green eyes.

“No way! Your dad worked with Michael and Jon’s mum?” Martin asks in disbelief.

“Uh-huh, this is where my parents met even.”

“Mine too, this archive seems like a great place to meet people” Jon jokes, or well, rather he deadpans the words, they only realise it’s a joke when Gerry laughs out loud.

Martin can’t help the pang of jealousy he feels at that… Gerry makes talking to Jon look _so easy_ , when he himself has trouble saying a sentence without stuttering or blushing, they get each other in a way he can only dream of doing with him. He _knows_ it’s a silly thing to feel, Gerry and Jon have been friends even since they were kids, the level of camaraderie they have with each other is completely reasonable.

That doesn’t mean Martin won’t feel jealous.

As everyone is settling back to keep going, Sasha _feels_ more than _sees_ a presence coming into her archives, it seems like a small group of people? No, just two of them, she has been getting better at sensing when something is amiss with her archives, even with all the cobwebs lying around. She wants to tell the others, but she barely manages to open her mouth when the door opens and two people indeed, one in police uniform and one in civil clothes, come in.

Jon’s eyes widen when he notices the badges the police officers are wearing, it’s not noticeable if you don’t know what to look for, but for him they may as well been wearing bright neon signs. He recognises those badges, Daisy and Basira used to wear them when they were in the force. These are clearly Sectioned officers. Question is, what are they doing here of all places?

“Good morning, I’m Detective Mc Gregor” the man in civil clothes introduces himself. “Jonathan Sims?”

“Yes?”

The man nods.

“You’re under arrest, Mr. Sims.”

“What?!” everybody exclaims.

One of the officers advances towards Jon, grabbing him by the wrist, the spider immediately yanks his hand free, despising the sensation of being touched without warning, before the officer frowns and tries again, gripping his wrist hard and forcing it behind his back to place the handcuffs.

“Yes, we’re arresting you on the charges of homicide and manslaughter for the murders of Gertrude Robinson and Jürgen Leitner.”

“This is ridiculous! Jon hasn’t killed anyone!” Sasha screams, unable to believe the nerve of this people, not only do they come here, to _her_ archives, but also dare threaten one of her own? This was unacceptable! “You have the wrong person!”

She wishes she could yell and tell them who is the real monster that they’re actually looking for, but how can she make sure they believe her? Does she still have the tape where Elias confessed to the murders?

“I’m afraid we don’t, actually” the detective continues, “it’s not your first run in with me, is it now, Jonathan?” he looks over at Gerry, “ I never forget a face, so of course I haven’t forgotten yours. Two-thousand and eight, I was one of the lead investigators for the Keay case.” The Goth pales slightly, a feat, considering how their make-up already makes their skin look as pale as can be. The man seems pleased at this and turns to look at Jon. “Well?”

“It’s okay” he tells the others as the officer behind him starts to push him to walk. “It’s just a simple misunderstanding, Gerry; please call my _sisters_ to let her know what’s going on. Sasha, the report you needed is on my laptop, you’re free to take a look.”

Nobody says anything as the officer leads Jon away, he manages to give them a reassuring smile that, let’s be honest, it probably mostly directed at Martin. They were planning to go on another date today, after all.

Once the officers and Jon leave, Gerry huffs and takes out their mobile phone, dialling a number. The others just stare at them, unsure of what are they doing.

“Daisy? Listen, I need you to come to the institute, we may have a problem…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations of the names, because I can:
> 
> Hiroko (Japanese): 浩 _(hiro)_ meaning "prosperous" combined with 子 _(ko)_ meaning "child" /Akiyama (Japanese): 秋 _(aki)_ meaning "autumn" and 山 _(yama)_ meaning "mountain, hill".
> 
> Odeta (Romanian): blue, sea/ Gheata (Romanian): Ice (hence her title of “Ice Queen”)
> 
> Chun-Fen (Chinese): As we know, it depends of what Chinese characters you use while writing, in this case it would be 春 _(chūn)_ for _Spring_ (the season) and 芬 _(fēn)_ for _Perfume_ so it would mean “Spring’s perfume”.
> 
> The words Odeta uses while in the catacombs (Sotul meu) mean "husband of mine".
> 
> Last update of the year, everyone! Have a nice New Year festivities and see you soon <3!


	9. Guilty Until Proven Otherwise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon spends sometime behind bars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warnings:** **Off-screen violence, police procedures (not detailed)**
> 
>  **Soundtrack:** All I wanted (Paramore)

**Thursday 10 th, May, 2018, Section 31 Precinct, London, 10:47 am**

Jon is bored.

The room he is being kept in is the standard interrogation room you would see in movies or crime series. It even has the mirror and everything. How long has he been here in this silent place? He has no idea, but knows that the officers are counting on that. A _cute_ attempt at manipulation, if you ask him, trying to make him feel isolated and helpless, so he they can crack him more easily when they finally come in, but clearly they don’t know who they’re dealing with.

He wonders if he is allowed to smoke in here… There are also other things to wonder about, such as his next move. He has already rehearsed what he is going to say, or rather what he won’t say, since he plans to evoke his right to remain silent and see what the officers say to try and get him to talk.

The metal charms of his bracelet clink together as he toys with them to pass the time. _Clink, clink, clink_ , this is probably Elias’ fault, _clink, clink, clink_ , yeah, Jon knows Elias has plans of his own, ones in which he is probably an unwanted nuisance, _clink, clink, clink._ He also knows that his plans probably involve both Sasha and The Watcher’s Crown in some way…

_Clink, clink, clink… clink._

The door finally opens, revealing Detective Mc Gregor, who is carrying several folders that he sets with more force than necessary in the table between them, Jon makes a show of flinching at the sound, did they want someone scared and weak? Jon will indulge them. The detective takes the chair across from him and flips it around, before straddling it and resting his forearms in the back of it. Jon bites his lips and avoids his gaze hoping he could pass off his amusement as nervousness, because that just reminded him of Tim sitting in exactly the same position and saying that it was because he _refused to sit like a straight man would_.

“Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Sims?”

No answer.

“I am evoking my right to remain silent.”

Mc Gregor looks at him like Jon just insulted his mother.

“I see how it is”, it’s all he says, before departing again, taking the folders with him.

“Wait!” the older man pauses at the door, “I would also like to make a call.”

The door is forcefully closed again and Jon sighs.

He remembers Detective Mc Gregor now, ten years ago he was one of the lead investigators on the case of Mary Keay’s “ _murder_ ”. He was completely sure that Gerry was to blame, but he was also sure that Jon had something to do with it; luckily he didn’t have any solid proof back then, none that would land his name in any official files, plus it’s not like there are any records of that case left, not after a mysterious fire burn down most of them on 2010.

They better not keep him here all day long, he won’t forgive them if they make him stand Martin up, they had a date today after Jon was to leave the archives for the day, he was really looking forward to eating pierogi and watching a film on Martin’s flat… he looks at his watch, 11:03 am, dammit it’s almost lunch time. Are they going to bring him food or…?

He huffs, resigning himself to spend however amount of time he has left here with one of the things he hates the most: his own thoughts.

* * *

**Thursday 10 th, May, 2018, Magnus Institute, London, 11:15 am**

Sasha types away on Jon’s laptop, easily logging into the thing, her friend _really_ needs to update his security. Everyone is worried, of course, but Jon won’t spend long behind bars. Daisy and Basira have already instructed Annabelle on what needs to be said and done to get Jon out, since; luckily, he has some solid alibis for both murders.

Tim and Melanie are out, getting lunch to which both she and Martin declined, the latter saying he had to go back to the bookstore, he did stay a bit after the others had left, to ask Sasha what did she thought about the situation, she assured him that she thought that everything was going to be fine. He did look uneasy and she Knew he was hiding something, she discreetly pinched herself hard in the arm to keep from Knowing what it was right away, though, she can at least do that.

Jon’s laptop is, unsurprisingly, neatly organised. Problem is that she doesn’t know what she is looking for. Yeah, it _may_ have been a breach of privacy to break into this very same laptop the first time without Jon’s consent, but she still thinks she is better than going through his photo gallery, even if the folders there have strange names like _Dust Eating Rat Recovered Books_ and _Band Practice 2006_.

What does Jon want her to see?

She finds herself staring helplessly at the desktop picture, which is a very cute picture of Annabelle laughing and holding a kitten, that judging by the fur is a baby Admiral, against her chest, that’s the two Jon loves the most that’s for sure. She looks around the icons, until she notices, at the very bottom of the screen the words _Meal preps_ but no icon above the text, curious, she clicks.

It’s a document folder that contains other folders, one says _Calendar 2018_ and it’s, as expected, a calendar. There are twelve images, one for each month, and each has a few squares marked with a colour and a minimalistic drawing on a corner. The second folder says _Meals_ and it has several word documents, stranger names Sasha has not seen. _Burnt breakfast_ , _Friday 13 th Special_, _Midnight snack_ , _Rush hour lunch_ , _Stale leftovers_ , _Tea for one…_

“Sasha?”

“Jesus!” she pants, hand against her heaving chest, “Gerry, you scared me!”

“Sorry about that, just wanted to know if you had, uh, any news?” Sasha smiles sadly and shakes her head _no_. “Uh, alright… do you need help with… whatever you’re doing?” they offer and Sasha’s smile turns sweet.

“Actually, yes, I found this folder on Jon’s laptop that I think it’s about the _meals_ but I don’t get all of these weird names…” Gerry nods and walks up to her, sitting on the desk. “Well, I guess each one of them is some sort of code?” another nod.

“You know that Jon loves wordplay” they remind her, shrugging. “He gets very paranoid, so I suggested the codenames to make him more at ease; it is fun to come up with them.”

So Sasha listens as Gerry explains how this particular codes work, _Burnt breakfast_ is the code for Gerry’s “extra” meals, since according to them the work in the tattoo parlour they run is filling, but sometimes they need a little _more_. _Friday 13 th Special_ is Melanie’s meal, while _Midnight snack_ and _Rush hour lunch_ , are Tim’s and Daisy’s respectively.

“Alright, so… I’m guessing _Stale leftovers_ are my meals, then? He did call the statements _stale fears_ once or twice” a nod. “What about _Tea for one_?”

“I’m sorry…? Uh, this is the first time I heard about that one to be honest- _Oh_! Yeah, of course, I’m going to tease Jon _so much_ about that one! Don’t worry, Sasha. Anyways, I think that what Jon wants is for you to have a copy of these, just in case he needs to go away for a while.”

* * *

**Thursday 10 th, May, 2018, Section 31 Precinct, London, 11:37 am**

Raymond used to say, _when we tell a lie, we must make sure it contains no traces to the truth_. Annabelle never understood it as a child, but she always remembered it. At first, she thought her father meant to not tell half-truths, but that did not make sense, aren’t those easier to maintain than a full lie? It took her a while to realise that he meant: _when telling a lie, cover your traces_. Now that did make a lot of sense and she knows is something both Raymond and Emma abided by.

On paper, Annabelle Cane does not exist, never has. They made sure of that.

She has two birth certificates (both obviously fake) one, the one that’s hidden in Hill Top Road, states that she is Annabelle Stardust Fielding, natural daughter of Emma Harvey and Arthur Fielding, this last one being the late brother of Raymond Fielding, which ties in with the story they told everyone back when she lived there. The second one, stored in the flat she shares with Jon, says instead that she is Annabelle Sims, natural granddaughter of Rosalind Sims and younger sister to Jonathan Sims.

So she is just as surprised as can be when one of the officers, she thinks he’s an officer at first, at the station stops her and asks her if she perhaps knows a woman by the name of Elizabeth Cane.

“Can’t say I do, I’m afraid” she answered, sounding sure and friendly, but managing to steer the conversation away from herself. “Officer, could you perhaps help me? I’m looking for someone, you see…”

* * *

**Thursday 10 th, May, 2018, Section 31 Precinct, London, 11:57 am**

Detective Mc Gregor is in the room adjacent to the interrogation room, carefully eyeing his suspect. Jonathan Sims is on the other side of the glass, his arms folded over the table as he rests his chin in them. He looks tired. Good.

He has been in the force for a long time; he knows exactly how people like Sims work. Sure, he may seem harmless but he knows what hides within, the calm man in front of him is nothing if the mask of the monster he truly is. Robinson and Leitner may be the only known victims of Jonathan Sims; god knows how many more are out there.

“You think he did it too?” he asks to Officer Cooper behind him, they have known each other for a while now, he knows the woman will back him up on this. She seems strangely convinced that he is guilty the moment they were relayed the information. Honestly, Mc Gregor has his doubts, but the fact that his partner seemed so sure…

“Yes, there’s too many evidence for it not to have been him” she answers, Jon may had gotten out for the Keay case and God knows how many other cases, but that won’t be the case again. She will make sure of it.

“Detective!” calls one of the administrative employees on the case (the only one left with enough courage to face the scary Detective and his scary partner, and honestly, he misses the precinct old resident Scary Detective, at least Tonner had a nice partner who always thanked him when he brought them something), his face is grim as he hands the detective some folders, knowing he is more than prone to violent reactions. “You have to let him go.”

“What, why?” it’s Cooper who complains.

“He has an alibi for both murders…” he answers as the detective practically rips the manila folders from his hands, but finds himself unable to read anything past the red in his vision, “a woman came by, her name is Annabelle Sims, his sister it seems. She was having lunch with him the day Gertrude Robinson disappeared and Sims was with her at her boyfriend’s flat when Jürgen Leitner was murdered as well… I guess you have the wrong one?”

Mc Gregor doesn’t answer him; he just throws the folders carelessly into the floor, before storming out, Cooper following close behind. The poor employee sighs and bents down to pick up the papers.

* * *

**Thursday 10 th, May, 2018, Section 31 Precinct, London, 12:07 am**

Jon doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on, but he feels relieved enough when someone comes by and tells him he is free to leave, that his sister is waiting for him and that he will escort him. He was honestly worried, even if Annabelle should not be here, he is more than glad to see her.

“Someone was chummy with that bloke on administration…” Jon teases as they exit the precinct and he places an arm around his sister’s shoulders.

“I think he recognised me” she retells, annoyed, “he asked if I knew Elizabeth Cane.”

“Elizabeth, like your sister Lizzy?” she nods.

“We were always told we looked alike.”

“To be fair, a lot of people had said that _we_ looked alike, and I do recall that one nice lady from the Sunday classes at church who said we took after Mum.”

“That’s different, it’s a known fact that adopted children tend to take after the people who raised them, silly” she eyes her brother’s expression and frowns as he shrugs, he seems… distracted. That clearly won’t do, there’s a chip shop across the street and she proceeds to tug him by the sleeve. “You haven’t eaten, have you? Let’s get you some food.”

“I have to go back to the archives…”

“Sasha and the others won’t hold it against you if you go out for lunch after being arrested, let’s go.”

“Only if you promise me not to snag any chips from _my_ plate, like you always do.”

The shop is a bit crowded, but they manage to find a table in the very back, next to one of the windows. Annabelle likes more crowded areas, but for the sake of Jon’s nerves, she doesn’t mind isolating themselves a bit. They both order a plate of fish and chips and start eating in silence. At first, she thinks her brother it’s still trying to process what happened.

They better had not left any marks on him or she is going to _snap_. She has been told she is not _nice_ when she is angry.

Jon is picking at his food with the fork, not really eating and Annabelle purses her lips, leaving her own fork aside. That won’t do.

“What’s bothering you?” the way she asks is blunt, sure, but she knows her brother better than anyone and if she asks him _what’s wrong?_ Jon is just going to say it’s nothing and carry on like normal. He opens his mouth, as if to answer, but closes it again when she frowns. “Jon” her voice is stern with the reminder she says next, “ _spiders don’t lie to one another_.”

That’s part of a cute little rhyme that Raymond taught them when they were little: _Spiders may lie to others, but never to one another!_ Both of them took it to heart, prompting that promise they made as kids about telling each other everything, be it good or bad.

“Do you think your sister Lizzy has been looking for you and that’s why he recognised you?” Annabelle refrains herself from rolling her eyes and reaches out for his hand instead.

“She may be my biological sister, but that does not in any way make _you_ my brother any less, you know that, don’t you?” he looks at her through his eyelashes. “Who do you think I love more, the girl that I barely remember but who I used to bother for my mother to pay attention to me or the man in front of me right now who used to read me stories at night and mercilessly tease me because I had a crush on his best friend?” Jon smiles and brings her hand up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the back of it. “Now, stop making me be a sap and tell me what’s really bothering you!” she orders letting go of his hand.

“I’m just disappointed, okay? I wanted to be right about what was chasing me, it… it _made sense_ for it to be Elias, it gave me an idea of what he may be planning, and now, we’re back to square one, zero even, to nothing. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle where one of the pieces doesn’t _fit_ right” he stabs a chip with more force than necessary and brings it to his mouth, chewing noisily, Annabelle pulls a face, but allows the silence to settle in, eating her own chips for once.

“Mum used to say that everything happened for a reason because our world is all connected…” Jon pauses at his sister’s words, fork halfway to his mouth as he stares at her, questions on his eyes. “So… which connection allowed Mc Gregor to find you? He never learnt what your name was, not even during Gerry’s trial and I doubt he has spent the last ten years tracking you down.”

Realisation sparks in Jon’s eyes.

“Good Lord…”

Annabelle’s lips break into a smile, as she rests her elbow on the table and her cheek on her hand. She winks.

“Here’s how your _Elias is the one behind this_ theory can still win…”

* * *

**[Text conversation of the “Institute Plans” group chat, 01:23 pm]**

**Puppeteer (Admin):** Hello, I’m out of jail

 **Huntress:** Are you okay? Were they nice to you? I would like their names, if possible.

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Only if you promise not to hunt them down.

 **Huntress:** No can do.

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Alice Daisy Tonner, we talked about this.

 **Huntress:** Jonathan Charles Sims Fielding, yes, we did, BUT you know I can’t stand it when someone touches my pack.

 **Vindicator:** this is like hearing Mum and Dad argue, I don’t vibe with this.

 **Living Fire:** I thought we established you were the Dad friend and Sasha the Mum friend?

 **Slaughterer:** I thought it was you and Jon?

 **Living Fire:** why the fuck would it be me and Jon?

 **Slaughterer:** you two are the ones that brought this whole group together in the first place??

 **Living Fire:** Fair enough. But Sasha has the brain cell though.

 **Archivist:** To be fair, so does Basira?

 **Detective:** can we get back on topic?

 **Forsaken Prince:** Jon! We were so worried! Are you alright?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Yes, Martin, thank you. I apologise for making you worry. It was really nothing serious, at least we know now what it is that’s chasing me and we have more information to work with to find a solution.

 **Archivist:** That’s great! It’s scheming time, my friends!

 **Archivist:** and on the topic of scheming!

 **Forsaken Prince:** Oh no

 **Archivist:** Actually, it’s not related to scheming, but I found a tape from Gertrude and I have a very important question.

 **Huntress:** Which is…?

 **Archivist:** Jon, can an avatar live forever?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** that’s a very specific question? Tell you what, I will go back to the archives and we can discuss that. Daisy, I will go to see you and Basira later as well to brief you.

 **Huntress:** alright, we will be here. Gerry, do you want to come with us?

 **Living fire:** I am already at the archives, don’t worry.

* * *

**Thursday 10 th, May, 2018, London, 02:47 pm**

“It can’t be…” Officer Cooper whispers, her eyes wide with the sight before her. “It’s not possible… right?” she turns to look at Mc Gregor, who is gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white with the effort. “She is one of us” she tries to reason.

They’re following Jon again, as they had been doing for a long time now. They saw him quickly exit the Magnus Institute and start walking, not bothering to hide his presence. Cooper had hoped they wouldn’t end up following him to that bloody bookstore again, because one look at that strange painting in the glass door made Mc Gregor look paler than a ghost. She didn’t understand, but respected him and didn’t press when he said he didn’t want to talk about it. Still, she didn’t get what was so scary about an octopus with a Latin phrase.

“She _was_ one of us” he corrects through gritted teeth.

Tonner is a traitor. They just saw her welcoming Jon into her new place like you would with a friend, as if he wasn’t a coldblooded killer, as if he wasn’t a monster. They saw her pat him in the back affectionately and bring him inside, laughing all the while.

“Forget about her” she decides, trying to get them back on track, “we can deal with her later, what you suggest we should do now, regarding Sims, I mean?”

“We do what we always do: we take care of it, and then we take care of Tonner”, he sombrely declares, “One thing is for sure: that monster dies tonight”.

* * *

**Thursday 10 th, May, 2018, London, 06:27 pm**

Jon is getting ready for his date with Martin tonight. He isn’t nervous, like at all, why would he be? He has chosen a dressier look than usual but not as stuffy as what he wears to work. The black off the shoulder shirt clings tightly to his body like a second skin; he would usually shy away from these sorts of clothes, but the way this one shows off his collarbone looks surprisingly pleasing, even if you can see the scar he has on the shoulder (he is not embarrassed of that scar, it’s that he doesn’t want Martin to be put off by it). He finishes the look with one of his chokers, one of the lace ones instead of the spiked ones. He grabs his trusty leather jacket from the back of his desk chair, not putting it on quite yet.

He runs a quick mental list of what he needs before he leaves, keys, wallet, mobile…, yep; everything seems to be in order.

“Oh, lalá, Mr. Fashion Week!” Annabelle teases, causing Jon to turn to look at her where she is standing in the doorway to his room. “You’re surely going to sweep your boyfriend off his feet with that look!”

“He isn’t my boyfriend” he grumbles, walking past her, turning the lighs off on his way out.

“Suuure” she says, extending the _u_ in a disbelieving tone as she follows him, “like you don’t come back looking like you just stumbled from cloud nine every time you’re with him.”

Given the, um, reputation of the Lukas family, she wasn’t sure how to feel about Jon falling for one of them, but Annabelle likes Martin, and mostly she likes what he brings out in Jon. Her brother may be a grump, but he looks so happy when he talks about the redhead (which is a _lot_ ).

Her brother scoffs, it’s just a film and some pierogi at his friend’s flat. Annabelle could tease all she wanted but they weren’t _boyfriends_. He wonders if that’s something that Martin would like… no, no, stop that train of thought right there. No need to make the night awkward for the both of them.

“Are you ready to leave?”

“Yep! Mikey should be arriving sooner rather than later” is what she answers as she grabs her purse, she will allow Jon to change the topic this time.

“Should I expect you to be back by morning?”

“Should I ask you the same question, Jon?”

“I will be back late, but most likely tonight. I will have breakfast waiting for you when you arrive.”

* * *

**Thursday 10 th, May, 2018, London, 07:47 pm**

Martin gets up from the couch, sighing as he throws on a hoodie. He had told Jon that they could reschedule, he had spent the morning in police custody after all, it was fine if he was tired or something, but no, he said, it’s fine, let see each other tonight… no, how did he phrase it again? He takes a look at his phone: _I really want to see you tonight_ , it reads, which made Martin’s heart start beating like crazy, preparing for tonight.

And then Jon never showed up.

There must be a reason for this… right? Yeah, there must be, Jon is the kind of person who goes to places _early_ to make sure he is on time. Even if there’s a reason, that does not mean it hurt any less to him. Martin knows it’s an irrational hurt, but what can you do?

He hates being alone with his thoughts, not in general, of course, just… the negative ones. Thoughts that say that Jon did not want to come _at all_ and not showing up is Jon’s way of gently let him down or something. He checks that Princess is still sleeping; she is, curled up in Martin’s bed like a little fuzzy four-legged angel. Ah, she looks so cute; he should take a picture before he leaves for a walk.

Picture taken and earphones on, he exits his flat and locks the door behind him.

_All I wanted was you. All I wanted was you. I think I'll pace my apartment a few times and fall asleep on the couch. Wake up early to black and white re-runs? That escaped from my mouth. Oh, oh._

There’s peacefulness to the night in his neighbourhood, one that he enjoys. He had missed going in walks at night, but the weather can be rather cruel when it wants to be, he is glad it finally seems to be letting up. He thinks of Jon and how he would love to show him just how beautiful the night can be.

_I could follow you to the beginning, and just to relive the start, and maybe then we'll remember to slow down at all of our favorite parts. All I wanted was you…_

Ugh, he should have picked a different song; he stops and pulls out his phone to do so, when he notices something out of the corner of his eye. There’s something glinting over the pavement. He tilts his head, before pocketing his phone and earphones and approaching. It’s a bracelet, a thin chain with a lot of charms that brings a smile to his face. It looks a lot like the one Jon wears sometimes, and he wants to shake his head, is he so lovesick that everything makes him think of Jon these days or what?

Hey, wait a second… he has seen these charms before.

 _“This is a medallion of Our Lady of Oxford, because of my dad, he was very catholic, you know?”_ he recalls Jon saying, that night at the club when Martin asked about his bracelet, _“this one may not look it but it’s a wolf, Daisy likes wolves, she, uh, she has a matching one of these, though hers is shaped like a spider.”_ These charms are too identical to be a coincidence, Martin rattles his brain to try to recall what the other charms were and see if they match the ones in the bracelet he is holding… there’s the cat, the pink heart, the treble clef…, _oh god_ … the sunflower! _“…that one is… is because of you, Martin.”_

Martin feels as if his heart just grew heavier than a brick and plummeted into his stomach, even if he knows that’s not physically possible. What does this mean?

Unsure, he looks around, and, for once in his life, the emptiness around him is not comforting.

* * *

**Thursday 10 th, May, 2018, London, 08:27 pm**

Sasha pauses in her paper shuffling when a tray with two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits is placed in the corner of the table she was working in. Her shoulders slump when she realises exactly how caught up she had gotten in her research… again. It’s just that after that tape from Gertrude warning her that Elias is actually Jonah Fucking Magnus, and has been all along, it has been hard to concentrate in _literally_ anything else.

“Sorry…” she apologises, but Tim just smiles encouragingly and reaches out to take her hand. “I just have so many information to organise and theories-”

“Oh, yes, talk dirty to me, Sasha…” he interrupts in a dreamy voice.

She blinks at him, he smiles innocently and, after a few seconds, they burst into incontrollable laughter.

“Infodump about your theories to me” Tim amends once the laughter has died down.

“The theories are not many, just that Gertrude must have lost it at the end like you said. I don’t understand how she reached that conclusion, there’s _so_ little info about Jonah! Speaking of which, how come there’s little to no info about Magnus? It’s ridiculous, he was a white upper-class man part of the London elite of the era there should be piles of information about him! There should be books, biographies, manuscripts! Tim” she turns to her boyfriend, who nods as he pours some sugar onto her cup and passes it to her, he continues the process with his own cup, “I want you to imagine you’re an upper-class, white man of the regency era for a second…”

“Weird, but proceed.”

“You fund an institute” Tim nods, taking his first sip and reaching over for a biscuit. “You name the institute after _yourself_ and then leave no trace whatsoever as to whom you were and why you commissioned the place? How does that make sense?” she bites into a biscuit of her own, musing on the words as she eats.

“It’s weird, but what’s the truth then? Jonah is some sort of body snatcher? That sounds more aligned with the Stranger than the Eye, and we know that Elias is an avatar of the Beholding.”

“Well, wouldn’t be the first time he does something out of entity for him, right? As you so rightfully pointed out, the murder of Jürgen Leitner was very _slaughter-y_ of him.”

“To be fair, I was trying to bother Mellie.”

“And there’s also the time when he tried to blackmail Daisy and Basira and you asked Jon if that wasn’t his wheelhouse.”

“He told me not to ever associate Elias with The Web again, but I know that I was right. Wait, hold up, I can feel another cursed take coming… do you have the original list of donors for the institute?” more papers are shuffled as the desired one exchange hands, Tim reads over the list, murmuring the names under his breath, but just until his eyes light up in recognition. “Mordechai Lukas was one of the most prominent donors, and his family continues to give money to the institute today, my theory is that Elias has been body-hopping in order to continue sugar-babying to the Lukases so the lights can remain on at the institute.”

“Okay, that sounds about right…” Sasha says, the hint of a laugh in her voice, before staring at the clock and sighing.

“Maybe it’s time to take a break?” he suggests, he can’t be mad at Sasha for getting consumed in her research, Tim does remember how bad it was when he first starting researching about Grimaldi and the circus. His girlfriend is the kind of person who needs answers and logic, it’s no wonder she wants to get to the bottom of the Jonahlias mystery, as they have labelled it. The woman nods shyly and he smiles. “Alright, let’s finish the tea and the biscuits and then I am going to show you my plans for the place where I’m taking Callum camping!”

“That boy it’s so lucky to have you.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, if someone will have to train a child avatar… I am glad it’s you, Tim, Callum is in good hands.”

* * *

**Thursday 11 th, May, 2018, London, 03:42 am**

_You have reached the voicemail of Jonathan Sims, I can’t answer the phone right now, but leave me a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I’m able._

“Um, hi, Jon, it’s Sasha, this is going to sound strange but I had a dream about you… I dreamt that you were in danger… um, please, just call me back, okay, Jon?”

_End message._

* * *

**Thursday 10 th, May, 2018, London, 08:47 pm**

Jon runs through the darkened streets, heart pounding and legs heavier than lead as he desperately tries to orient himself. He can’t stop, won’t stop, because if he does, he knows it’s over for him. Why is there no one around this damn neighbourhood? Where can he go? He doesn’t know his way around Stockwell very well… the obvious answer would be Martin’s place, the hunters have been careful enough to know not to follow him when he is with him or the few times he has been to the bookstore, they knew not to mess with a member of the Lukas family, they knew the rules their world abides by. He does not want to put Martin in danger or anything, but it seems he may not have a choice. He can feel one of the hunters closing in, who is it? Is it Cooper, finally recovered from the blow he managed to land? Or Mc Gregor set on killing him for either hurting his partner or for whatever twisted justice he is hell-bent into performing…

After a sharp turn on a corner, he crashes against something, or rather some _one_ , of course he does. For a child of the Mother of Puppets, Jon has extremely bad luck… or does he?

“Jon? Oh, my god, I was so worried! Wait… Jesus, what happened to your face?”

“We- we have to run!” he tries to warn, tugging the other man’s sleeve to keep going and make him follow, the flat is safe, of course, but there’s no telling what those two will do if they find them together and alone in the street.

He can hear rushed footsteps and starts more insistently tugging on the sleeve of Martin’s hoodie, but the man just smiles, before looping an arm around his shoulders.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to run, I will keep you safe.”

When Mc Gregor finally reaches the alleyway, pace steady and gun drawn, ready to shoot, he finds it empty. Does a double, a triple, a quadruple check, but the damn spider it’s nowhere to be found, he curses as he stomps the ground, barely managing to keep back a groan. Taking a deep breath, he tries to find the monster’s scent, like he had been taught by his mentor, but all he can smell it’s a thick perfume, too strong to be pleasant (to him, at least), it’s like Autumn mist… right before the first rain, it doesn’t bring him any comfort, he scrunches his nose, it reminds him to much of empty manors and barren coastlines, thought he is not sure why his brain is making that particular connection.

He turns around and goes back to look for Cooper instead, he will have to tell her the spider got away… again.

Once Mc Gregor is gone, Jon feels a shift in the air around him. Martin’s hands are still gently but firmly placed on his shoulders, a reassuring weight, and his back is against the man’s chest.

“Wh-What happened?” he tries to clear his throat but it feels like he just coughed sandpaper, barely managing to sound above a whisper.

“Part of being Lonely it’s about not being noticed, of course! Everyone in the family can do that!” it’s the explanation that it’s offered, when Jon cranes his neck back, he can see that Martin is smiling, before he parts from him, giving the spider some much needed space, Jon immediately feels cold.

“Wh-What happens now?”

“Are you hurt, aside from the bruises?”

“My- My ribs hurt…”

“Alright, let’s go to my flat, we will see what we can do about those wounds…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon is safe... for now.
> 
> First chapter of the year!! I hope you all liked it <3
> 
> Next chapter should be longer than this one.
> 
> See you soon <3


	10. Have you ever heard of Mr. Spider?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Martin deal with the aftermath of their encounter with Cooper and Mc Gregor. Meanwhile, Annabelle has plans of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Soundtrack:** Sleeping on the floor (The Lumineers).
> 
>  **Trigger warnings:** **Off-screen violence, graphic description of bruises, blood, blackmail, manipulation.**

**Thursday 10 th, May, 2018, London, 09:47 pm**

Martin takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself as he takes some first aid supplies from the bathroom’s cabinet. He is neither a violent person, nor the kind who would wish harm upon anyone, Christ, fights and arguments make him get stomach-aches! But right now, while Jon is waiting for him on the couch, bruised and hurt and looking like he is ready to burst into tears, Martin really, _really_ wishes he had the ability to cast people into the Lonely the way Peter and Nathaniel do.

After one last deep breath, he finishes gathering up the things he needs and exits the bathroom. Jon is still where he left him, fidgeting as he sits in the couch with a nasty black eye and a busted lip, not that he can see his face now, since Jon has covered it with his hands as his shoulders shake slightly… _oh, god,_ _don’t tell me he is crying_.

“…Jon?” _softly, softly,_ he tells himself, _we don’t want to startle him_.

His head snaps up from his hands and Martin’s heart breaks when he sees that his eyeliner is smeared across his eyelids and his eyes are red-rimmed. The spider clears his throat as the redhead takes a seat next to him in the couch, leaving the supplies in the coffee table.

“What’s wrong?”

“I lost my bracelet…” Jon answers, voice watery and broken, before his features settle into a scowl and Martin wants to sigh with relief, _there_ is the Jonathan he knows and adores. “ _They_ made me lost _my_ bracelet” he amends, voice dripping with vitriol and disgust, his hands open and close into fists erratically over his thighs, like he is about to punch something.

“Are you angry?”

“Angry?! That was my favourite bracelet! Do you have any idea of how _long_ it took me to get all those charms? Some of them had been gifts!” he rants, unable to contain himself even if it makes his throat hurts, Martin allows him to, even if he aches to reach over as brush away the fresh black tears running down Jon’s cheeks. “The one Daisy gave me was handmade! And the one Gerry gave me for one of my birthdays was part of a matching set!” a hiccup interrupts him, and his voice turns sad, “…the medallion… the medallion was my dad’s…” another hiccup as more tears pour and the anger is back on his voice, “it was like a lucky charm, I had it on when I bind the Not-Them to the table, I had it on when we went against Prentiss and it was the only thing in me that made it out intact of the House of Wax last year!”

By the end of his diatribe, he is breathing heavily, tears still running down his face. Jon feels shame course through his veins like acid when he realises what he was just doing, Martin saved him from the hunters, took him to his flat and it’s about to take care of his wounds and he screams at him like it’s his fault he lost that stupid bracelet? He had been mean, downright unfair, with Martin in the past, he may have let the others to believe it was because the redhead wasn’t as “competent” as the rest of them, but it was actually because he wanted to be cautious regarding him, he knew from the moment he first lied his eyes on him that Martin was like them, that he belonged to their world. Problem was, yes, he belongs, but to which patron? Jon hated not knowing which the variables he was playing with were, especially in something as delicate as his plans of convincing the Archivist to join his side of the game.

Regardless of that, he was unjust when it came to Martin and he had promised himself not to do it again, he deserved better.

“Do you feel better now?” his voice it’s still soft and wrapped in concern, a concern he doesn’t think he deserves directed at him.

“Yes, I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay; you aren’t having an easy night, are you?” Jon mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _more like_ _not an easy year_ , “plus, I think you’re right, that bracelet of yours _is_ a lucky charm!” the other man stares at him with curiosity now as he fishes the pocket of his hoodie, “I found this when I went out for a walk earlier…”

The way the charms clink together sounds so familiar to Jon that he thinks his heart is going to burst.

“You found it…” the words leaving his mouth before he can even process them as he reaches over to take it from him.

“Yes, but before you put it on, we should check your wounds, those two really did a number on you”, his hand reaches slow enough that Jon can move away from the touch if he wants to, but he doesn’t, letting Martin touch his side with his fingertips instead, and then he can’t hide a wince. “Um, hurts? Can you take your shirt off so I can take a look?” Martin would usually be embarrassed for such a blunt request, but the embarrassment dies the moment his fingers come away wet and _red_. “Shirt off, _now_ ” Jon looks a little panicked at the redness staining Martin’s fingertips, so he quickly pulls up his shirt, finding a shallow cut, not longer than five centimetres or so. The redhead sighs with relief. “It’s alright, it’s a rather small one, I have some bandages for that, don’t worry, you take off your shirt and I will go get them, okay?” the spider nods at his soothing tone as he does what he is told and the other goes to the bathroom again.

Once the cut is cleaned and he has applied the bandages (with minimum complains from the spider), he can take a look at the rest of the wounds covering Jon’s torso. There are bruises here and there, starting to darken in a way that Martin doesn’t like one bit, and he thinks the lace of his black choker would have contrasted beautifully with the warm brown of his skin, if it wasn’t for the bluish purple bruises in the shapes of hands around his neck that are starting to settle there. He wonders if that’s normal.

“What happened to your shoulder?” he asks, aiming for casual while he gets some gauze and disinfectant for Jon’s split lip.

“Oh? Ah, that’s, um, that’s the scar from Mr. Spider’s bite.”

“Is it… _normal_ for it to look like it was stitched with cobweb threads or…?”

“Yes. Martin” he repeats exasperated, “you’re only noticing the cobwebs because you’re close to me, otherwise you wouldn’t.”

Jon has a lot of scars, besides the one in his shoulder, Martin gets the weird idea that he wants to kiss each one of them and have the man tell him how he got them. _Turn down the gayness and the yearning for one bloody second!_ , is how he mentally chides himself, wanting to smack himself in the face.

He is done with Jon’s lips; all that’s left it’s the bruises now. A cold ice pack is pressed gently against Jon’s black eye as Martin smears some ointment into the bruises on his neck, he is doing it _very_ carefully as to not to scare him. God, each new bruise he treats makes him want to do two things: one, pack everything and go hunt down that hunter who hurt Jon, see how he likes it and two, wrap Jon in a blanket and tell him everything is going to be okay.

Just as he is about to go over a nasty bruise on Jon’s right forearm, he notices a new thing: Jon has a very weird scarred burn on the arm, five angry red marks that look kind of like fingertips? Oh… god…

“That’s from Agnes Montague” the man says, as if it is nothing. “I caught her in a bad mood once when we lived together in Hill Top Road” he explains, before pointing at the scarred tissue below his most recent cut, “that’s the shrapnel wound from the explosion in the House of Wax, this over here” now showing the palm of his left hand, “is from that bloody can opener that refused to collaborate…”, he points to his bicep, a bit higher up than the burn, “this it’s the mark of Slaughter, I got stabbed with a butter knife, believe it or not, oh, and here I said it was a butter knife but it was actually Helen, I think she was trying to be funny” he finishes with a shrug.

“Jesus…”

“Yeah, I think I’m the one with the most marks in our group? Ah, wait; I also have two pockmark scars from the Prentiss thing on my right ankle.”

“You better not be trying to collect the fourteen.”

“Believe me, I am definitely not.”

Silence spaces between them, but this time is a comfortable one. Another interesting thing Martin has discovered is that the spider on the left forearm is not the only tattoo that Jon has, he seems to have had something on the side, it has become unrecognisable due to the shrapnel wounds, but it was probably a phrase in fancy calligraphy and then, when the redhead asks to check his back, he is taken aback when he sees the feathery wings in deep black ink on his shoulder blades. He makes quick work of the few scrapes and cuts there and goes up to the lofted bedroom to fetch a shirt for the other man to borrow. His face is totally not bright red, _it’s_ not.

When he comes back, he notices that black tears are running down Jon’s face again.

“I’m sorry, I- I don’t know what it is this time…” he excuses through the stammering. “I’m- I’m sorry, I can’t stop…” a sob shakes him and he tries to wrap his arms around himself to keep from shivering, even Martin, sweet and patient that he is, would, _should_ , tell him to quit crying already. Why is this even for?

“It’s okay, I’m good at waiting” , is what he says instead when he gives him one of his old band tees, trying to ignore how big the black fabric looks on him, it even slips down one of his shoulders. Instead he sits next to him. “Jon… would it be okay if I, um, can I… would you like it if I hugged you?”

“I… I think so, yes.”

Martin nods once, before adjusting his sitting position so he is facing Jon, then he stretches his arms out, but doesn’t move, waiting for the spider to make the first move. He of course wasn’t expecting Jon to practically slam into him, half-straddling him as his hands fist on the front of his clothes and he hides his face onto his shoulder. A huff escapes his lips, but after a few stunned seconds, he finally places one arm around his waist as his free hand starts rubbing circles onto his back and the spider relaxes against him, every little sad noise coming out of him making Martin’s heart break all over again.

Jon has never considered himself a crier, when was the last time he cried this much even? Was it on that beach in Bournemouth when he and Annabelle were sent to live with Grandmother after their dad’s untimely passing? Or was it when Gerry got diagnosed? He nuzzles Martin’s neck, because he is just _so warm_ , and Jon is very, very cold.

“It’s okay if I pet your hair?” he shakily nods and he can feel Martin gently running his fingers through his probably matted curls, he keeps crying, but Martin doesn’t shush him or tell him to stop, just murmurs soft little reassurances in his ear. “It’s okay… you’re safe, you’re here with me, let it out, Jon, it’s okay… you went through something horrible, it’s okay to feel this way, it’s healthy, you will feel better after you let it all out, yeah?” eventually the sentences lose their meanings, the words blurring together into a gentle but unintelligible murmur that calms him down.

Jon feels… warm… warm and safe and that it doesn’t matter that he almost… almost… god, he can’t even think about it, but he doesn’t have to, not here, between Martin’s arms. He could stay here _forever_. Eventually, he calms down and his breathing slows down, he winces at the dark stain he has left on the shoulder of Martin’s hoodie, but the man just smiles at him.

“Are you hungry? I do believe I promised you some Pierogi” Jon doesn’t have to answer, because his stomach growls answering for him, off to the kitchen then, time to pay attention to dinner and not to the beautiful man sitting on his couch.

“That would be lovely-” a sharp pause “…Martin?” he answers with a non-comital hum as he gets the Pierogi into the oven, the microwave would be faster, yes, but just like his grandpa used to say, there’s nothing like the taste of a homemade meal, and the microwave kind of ruins that. “Is this a Mechanisms t-shirt?”

* * *

**Friday 11 th, May, 2018, London, 04:48 am**

Jon wakes up on an unfamiliar but comfortable bed, wearing clothes that are not his own and every part of him is sore, the throbbing on his split lip a reminder of everything that happened the night before… well, _almost_ everything. Martin’s arm is wrapped around him, he finds himself clutching the freckled man’s hand to his chest and he can feel the warmth of his breath ghost along the nape of his neck. Usually he runs cold, but the man behind him seems to have enough body heat for the both of them.

The beginnings of a sunrise tint the sky with that unique blue hue characteristic of the early mornings and he can see the outline of the loft’s balustrade and the large windows past it. There’s also a soft purring from somewhere in the foot of the bed, probably Princess.

Jon is hit by a wave of guilt, does he deserve this? Does he deserve to be in a warm bed, to share it with Martin? He basically put him in danger with what happened last night! Of course, he knows that the man can take care of himself, members of the Lukas family are not known for being docile and, well, Jon _was_ there when Martin took care of those two Flesh avatars in the archives. The redhead may look harmless and friendly, clueless even but Jon knows exactly how much is Martin a Lukas to the core.

The memory of Martin’s fingertips grazing against his skin as he tenderly took care of his wounds is intoxicating for him, how can someone show such care in such a simple gesture? Now, while their fingers are intertwined and he can feel his warmth even through their clothes… Jon wants to be selfish. He wants to burrow even further into the covers and do what he does best, pretend. Pretend that he is not here because Martin pitied him last night; pretend that Martin reciprocates the feelings that had blossomed in Jon; pretend that there is nothing beyond this bed, this room, beyond them.

For once, Jon indulges himself, closing his eyes and pretending, just like he knows best.

Martin is a light sleeper, most likely due to the years and years of taking care of his sick mother and having to be ready for anything she may need at any time, day or night. So, when Jon slightly shifts in bed, clutching his arm closer to his body, the redhead drowsily realises the position they’re in. He wants to hide his face (either on a pillow or on Jon’s hair whichever is fine) and groan. This is his fault, last night as they drifted off to sleep, he had the wonderful idea (you know, one of those that sound awesome when you’re half sleep) to ask Jon if he liked cuddles, which prompted the spider to ask back if that was what Martin wanted, he doesn’t remember what he said, just has a vague idea of it, but he must have said yes, because Jon rolled over, facing away from him and practically _ordered_ him to put an arm around his waist, only for him to grab his hand and held it close to his chest, he fell asleep feeling Jon’s heartbeat under his fingertips.

“Jon…?” he asks softly, his voice hoarse with remaining sleepiness.

Jon freezes up, before looking over his shoulder.

“Ah, good morning, Martin…”

“Good morning to you as well” he can’t help himself, he moves the tiniest bit closer to the spider, but passes it off as stretching himself, if he didn’t know better he would swear Jon too has moved closer. “Have you… slept well, Jon?”

Jon turns in his arms, so now he is facing him, neither of them willing to part, yet neither willing to say anything.

“Yes, thank you for… for everything, really, Martin. You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to” he amends, and it makes Jon smile.

They stare at each other and Martin pretends his heart is acting like normal when the spider frowns and gently caresses the skin beneath his right eye, he probably looks like he hasn’t slept at all, he may be a Lukas but he didn’t come unscathed from the encounter last night, using his abilities out of nowhere can be pretty tiring for him, especially if he hasn’t used them in a while.

“It’s like… like you’re always there when I need you most…” the frown on his face doesn’t match the softness of his words. “I could have died last night, but I didn’t, I didn’t and it was because of you…”

“Well, I really didn’t do much” he excuses, finally moving away and sitting on the bed, the blankets and sheets pooling on his lap, because if he doesn’t part from Jon, he is going to do or say something _stupid_. “I just… I’m not sure what I did that was so great? Mc Gregor couldn’t find us, as for Cooper, you managed her rather well and on your own!”

Jon too sits, reaching over to take one of his hands in his, looking at him with those beautiful brown eyes he adores, the light of the sunrise behind them making him look stunning.

“You saved my life” and with those words, Martin finds himself leaning down at the same time that Jon is leaning up to meet him in the middle. His heart beats so fast that the other man can probably hear it and… wait… no.

 _Shit, shit, shit, abort, abort!_ As gently as he can manage, he pushes Jon’s shoulders, making the other man open his eyes and soon the confused look of his face melts into downright panic.

“Martin…? Did-, oh my god-, did I misread the situation? Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought-…”

“Jon… Jon, it is okay, I just… Uh, just to be on the same page, you were going to kiss me, right?” the cocked eyebrow that seems to say ‘ _are you serious?’_ is more than obvious that, _yes_ , that’s exactly what was going to happen. “Oh, um, I wanted to as well? Just, your lip is still healing; I don’t want to hurt you” that’s when Jon visibly relaxes, Martin can’t not do something about that, so he leans down again to press a kiss to Jon’s forehead instead this time, but the frown is back there. “Okay, compromise, then?” he offers, before kissing his own fingertips and presenting them to Jon, who quickly catches up and imitates the gesture to then press his hand to Martin’s. “I will leave to change if you want, does breakfast sound good?”

“Yes, that would be great.”

Princess is now awake as well, so Martin scoops her up on his way to the kitchen, she usually takes more time to wake up, still an earlier raiser than her human, though. He turns on the radio, lowers the volume out of habit and sets to prepare breakfast. Tea is, of course, a must, but there are some biscuits and cut up fruit on a bowl in the fridge. The kitten, on the other hand, gets a bowl of milk and little plate with a handful of her usual dry cat food croquets.

The way the table it’s set is as careful and meticulous as that of the night before, by the time Jon comes down, still wearing his t-shirt and the ripped jeans from the night before. Good… because the top he was wearing last night is completely ruined with a huge bloodstain, it’s basically to throw into the bin, and not because Martin’s heart does something funny upon seeing the spider on his clothes, of course.

Breakfast is had in silence at first, then Jon comments he is _not_ looking forward to telling his sister what happened and Martin suggest he can tell her over text, but then he shows him the phone: the screen is cracked and it doesn’t turn on, so he will have to tell her when he gets home. They also talk about the music in the radio, which is a comfortable topic for them both.

“What happens now?” Martin asks, towards the end of the meal, because it feels right to ask, even if knows he won’t like the answer.

“Now…” a heavy sigh, “Scotland, so I got to go back home and pack up, tell my sister, prepare the passport, that sort of thing.”

“Oh.”

 _I got_ , he said, **_I_** , which does not include him. No idea why he thought that it would.

“Thank you, Martin… for everything.”

“You’re welcome!”

And then there’s nothing else to say, despite the both of them still having thoughts to share. Martin walks Jon out when it’s time for him to leave, even though it’s very early, and their eyes fall on each other, wishing they could say everything they’re thinking of, instead, Jon brings his hand to his lips, kisses his fingertips and offers it to Martin, who smiles back and repeats the gesture back to him.

The door closes with a sharp click after he has watched Jon disappear down the hallway of his floor towards the stairs. He rests his back against it and sighs, the only sound in the flat that of the radio playing another cheesy love song.

_Pack yourself a toothbrush dear, pack yourself a favorite blouse. Take a withdrawal slip; take all of your savings out, ‘cause if we don't leave this town we might never make it out. I was not born to drown, baby come on…_

“Goddammit…” he mutters under his breath and gripping the bridge of his nose, before throwing the door open. “Jon, _wait!_ ”

He doesn’t get very far out of his flat, barely halfway through the hallway when he almost stumbles into the spider, who is panting, so for a few seconds, the only sounds are his heavy pants as he tries to catch his breath, he just waits for him to talk and maybe explain himself.

“Martin… Martin I-…” he bites his swollen lip and the redhead wants desperately to tell him to _stop that_ before he hurts himself again, even going so far to opening his mouth to say it, but the other’s next words make him close it just as fast. “Martin, come with _me_.”

“I- I-… _what?_ ”

“I can’t stay here, I can’t risk making the hunters aware of the others and there’s also the danger of them finding Annabelle through me, which I cannot allow under any-” he shakes his head mid-explanation, as if gathering his thoughts. “I can’t stay, but I don’t want to leave… leave _you_ here” tentatively, a hand reaches out and the other meets it halfway, their fingers interlacing together.

“Jon…I…”

“Let me finish”, he takes a deep breath, “I know it’s stupid, I know it’s selfish, but I don’t want to go to Scotland _alone_ , let’s- let’s go together, you and me… let’s run away to Scotland …” the way his eyes move while looking at his face betrays how nervous Jon is with what he has just said, Martin has to say something, because those brown eyes are shining with hope, but he is too stunned to respond, he is not even sure what was he going to say when he exited his flat, he wants to answer, even if he can’t quite believe that this is _happening,_ that this is _real_ , Jon is asking him to run away together, from London, from the hunters, from everything. He has to respond, has to say something, but that’s when the hand in his loosens it’s grip and he feels as if a part of him is going with it when it releases his. “It’s alright… I am asking for too much, aren’t I? You have your own things going on and…” he chuckles but there’s no real humour behind it. “I’m sorry, I, uh”, it’s when he tries to pull away that he finally reacts. “It would put you in danger anyway-”

“Jon” his tone is now serious instead of confused when he interrupts; a palm covers his mouth, carefully as to not press his hurt lip when the other opens his mouth to interrupt him. “Let’s do it, let’s run away together.”

“You want to come with me?” it’s what comes from beneath his hand, before Jon pushes it away and looks at him as if saying _for real?_

“Jon, I would go _anywhere_ with you. Plus, you can’t use the whole _I will just put in danger_ excuse, not with me, after last night I’m probably going to be one of their targets and you know what? I don’t care! Saving you was totally worth it! If those hunters want a piece of me, then let them come and get it! They can take it up with Nana or Uncle Peter if they-”

“We leave tomorrow morning” Jon him cuts off, tone fond and a sweet smile on his face “my phone is ruined but you have my back-up number, don’t you?”

“Do I have your _what_? And why are we leaving so soon?”

“If we are running away we have to leave as soon as possible, of course. Wait… don’t you have to go to Kent tomorrow?”

“Ah, yes, but… you could come with me…?” it’s a spontaneous decision, but Martin is good at rolling with the punches, has always been, so he takes Jon’s hands in his. “Come to Kent with me then we can go anywhere you want, to the End of the World if you wish to even.”

“Yeah, alright then… I’m going home, I will text you with my back-up number and we will plan more, alright?”

“Alright”, he agrees, unable to help the smile on his face.

* * *

**Friday 11 th, May, 2018, London, 07:08 am**

Annabelle gets down from Mike’s white truck after giving him one last kiss and heads into her building, purse in hand and drunk on love. She is using the stairs (because the lift is always out of service for some reason and the landlord is a prick who refuses to get it fixed), when she spots someone else in the stairs ahead of her, a man wearing a very familiar leather jacket.

“Jon!” she calls, her voice a bit loud for this time of the day but it’s exactly that which has her so giggly, did her brother just came back or did he go out to buy something for breakfast like he promised? He has frozen on the step and that worries her, did perhaps things not go well with Martin? “Jon?” he starts to climb the stairs again, faster this time, “hey, wait for me!”

What has gotten into him?! When they reach the flat’s door there’s no use in hiding as he opens it, she gasps upon seeing his face from the side and hurries inside after him, closing the door behind them both to take a good look.

“Anna…”

“Who did this to you? Are you hurt anywhere else?” she is cradling her brother’s face as gently as she is able as she talks.

“Let’s sit, Anna, I will tell you everything.”

Jon insists on making her some tea before they talk and she uses this moment to get out some biscuits, he scratches the back of his neck and admits that he already has had breakfast; she shrugs it off and still sets a second mug on the countertop. Once the full warm mugs and the plate of biscuits are set on the coffee table and they’re sit comfortably on the couch, the oldest begins to retell his night.

By the end of it Annabelle sees red, after all, Jon is all the family she has left, she truly doesn’t know what she would do if she lost him. Her brother, who is now holding her close, caresses her hair as he tells her the new plans: Jon is going to head up to Scotland with Martin after visiting the Lukas manor, Annabelle suggests that maybe it’s a great time for her and Mike to finally take that trip abroad and he agrees.

“So now we prepare to depart?” she jokes.

“Yes, I have to make a few calls first though, but start packing your bags, princess.”

“Alright then! Maybe you should, you know, have a meal?”

“I have to call Daisy first” Jon frowns, Annabelle doesn’t seem as angry as she did when the conversation started, but he doesn’t think that’s a good thing. “Annabelle, is there something you want to talk about? There’s nothing you want to tell me?”

“Who, me?” she asks, batting her eyelashes in a way that she knows completely disarms Jon, “why would you say that?”

“Annabelle…” he warns, and she smiles fondly, because it reminds her a lot of the tone Emma used on them when she scolded them, “if you’re planning on doing anything-”

“Nope!" she interrupts, “I do have to arrange a couple things with Mikey, though. You go ahead and eat something, in both senses of the word.”

And with that she gets up and disappears into the hallway, Jon sighs, knowing that Annabelle won’t utter a word unless she completely has to, but he also knows that she will tell him eventually, she always does. Taking out his phone (this is the back-up he mentioned to Martin, not many people know of this number), he dials Daisy’s number.

* * *

**Friday 11 th, May, 2018, London, 12:36 pm**

There’s a horror story among the upper-class men of London (CEOs, important business men, lawyers, more than one doctor, bankers, the like), a story about a monster, not unlike the one that lurked beneath your bed as a kid, a creature that knows every single one of your deepest secrets and won’t hesitate to use them against you and strip you of all of your power and possessions. Nobody has seen this so called _monster_ but everybody and their cousins know it’s name: _Mr. Spider_.

If you’re unlucky enough, you may get an e-mail, or a letter, some claim to have even received phone calls. The communication will be brief, but the result it’s the same, _you’re now Mr. Spider’s guest_. You’re now on your own; no amount of money or contacts will save you, for Mr. Spider knows _everything_ about you, your secrets, your sins, your weakness… There’s no way to escape it’s notice, and no way for you to escape it’s web, not really. What Mr. Spider wants from you is not really much different from what other people may want from you: money. So it is harmless, you would think, money it’s something that you have lots of, that you can spare, but Mr. Spider always wants more, and soon you will run out.

What’s the price for your spouse not learning about you affair with you secretary, your superiors finding out about the funds that had mysteriously disappeared from the company, the press discovering evidence that you have been prioritising money over workers’ safety? Tell me, what’s the price? Would it be worth it cobwebs you will start finding in your home, your rapidly declining wealth, the paranoia that will drive everyone away?

Perhaps you think you can handle it, won’t be the first time someone threatens you this way, is it? Or perhaps you may now realise that you have taken several wrong choices that had lead you to a strange and twisted end. If you’re lucky, eventually Mr. Spider will leave you alone when it has grown bored of you, but not before it has taken all that it has wanted, because, don’t forget… _Mr. Spider always wants more_.

Mr. Spider, also known as Jonathan Sims, Jonathan Fielding, Jonathan Cane, Charles Harvey, etc., depending of the situation and the place, is well aware of his reputation, it sounds a bit too _Beholding_ for him, but, meh, as long as it keeps his targets afraid. Speaking of which…

_Oh hey, that’s great_ , Jon thinks, when he comes back from the nearby drugstore with a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes, as he finds he has a text on his back-up phone. _“I shall have the other part of the required payment ready for next Tuesday”_ it reads and it makes Jon smile, he had even forgotten about the latest target. He checks his bank account, not the one which Jonathan Sims uses to pay the bills, of course, but rather a second one by the name of Charles R. Harvey where he deposits the payments from his… side job. It is a job, to be honest; he puts as much effort on it as on his work on the archives. This payment should be enough to pay for the trip to Scotland and buy groceries and a few other things for the safe house.

“Oh, you’re back” Annabelle says, exiting the hallway that leads to both of their bedrooms and the bathroom, she stops and smiles sweetly. “Did you _eat_ something? Your face it’s looking much better.”

“You’re looking quite full yourself” he doesn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation, but alas. “I haven’t seen you since this morning, what have you been up to?”

“None of your business, dear brother” it’s her cheerful answer as she gifts Jon her brightest smile, she gets closer to inspect his face, it’s a relief to not see him looking like a truck ran him over.

“Oh, no, no, no, you called me _dear brother_ , what have you done this time?”

“I promise it’s nothing bad, just… my usual way of feeding, I suppose. Oh, and Mikey says hi.”

Jon sighs and drops the matter.

“Have you packed everything, Princess?”

* * *

**Saturday 12 th, May, 2018, London, 07:48 am**

“You know, traditionally, people don’t tell their families that they’re running away…” Peter muses as Martin loads his suitcase on the back of his car. Odeta has asked him to pick him up today, which was fine by him, Elias has been insufferable lately for some reason, good thing he has a voyage in a few days.

“Well, the last time I failed to show up at the manor Nana wasn’t very happy.”

_Last time_ being two years ago, has it really been just two years? It feels like a lifetime ago, when he was trapped in his flat and couldn’t sleep because a _hive_ was incessantly knocking on his door, trying to get him to open. All of this while sending messages to his friends and to his family, letting them know _he_ was _sick_. Odeta was appalled when she found out about what actually happened, even if he downplayed it a _lot_ in his retelling to her. She had a hard cold glint on her icy eyes and she declared something must _be done_ about it, he always figured that something was telling Nathaniel to give into Elias’ request to change the fire suppression system.

“Martin!” he hears someone calling him, and he turns to see Jon coming to greet him.

Jon is only carrying a large camping backpack and a briefcase for some reason, which makes sense since they’re _running away_ , he guesses. His outfit screams _office meeting_ instead though: a black turtleneck shirt with a dark grey blazer with matching slacks and dressy polished shoes. Peter murmurs something about _giving them space_ before climbing onto the car. The black eye and the split lip are gone; the man admits he may have had a _snack_ beforehand.

“So… are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be” it’s the answer Jon gives without hesitation as he takes Martin’s hand.

Martin takes a peek over his shoulder to see what Peter is doing (minding his own business as usual), before leaning down to peck Jon on the cheek, they stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into a fit of laughter at how ridiculous they’re being.

“Let’s go, have you ever been to Kent?” the spider shakes his head _no_. “Good, you’re going to love it…”

Jon sits in the backseat, next to Princess’ pet carrier (“she is just a baby, Jon, I can’t leave her!”, the redhead had said), while the other sits on the passenger seat. Peter, who absolutely hates small talk, turns on the radio. The spider welcomes the distraction, trying by all means not to think at what awaits for him, he is not scared, of course, just worried. It’s not Cooper and Mc Gregor that worry him. they won’t be able to find them at Moorland Manor and, even if they did, there’s no way they would dare attack them, they have kept themselves away from both Martin and the bookstore so far, no reason for them to change their minds. No, what does worry him it’s the trip to Scotland, once they leave Kent they will become vulnerable targets, which way of travel would be safer… the train perhaps? They have two backpacks, a rolling suitcase, a briefcase, and a pet carrier between the two of them, dammit, is it too much luggage?

He spends the time scrolling through his phone, mostly through travel sites, looking for the most discreet way to travel to Scotland.

By the time they reach the manor, Jon already has a few routes planned for them to pass the border, good thing he remembered to prepare a second passport just in case, Cooper and Mc Gregor will probably look for him, but too bad that the man who will go through the frontier is Jonathan Fielding.

The Lukas state is huge, more than Jon expected for a nineteenth century manor to be. There are two iron gates, the first one with a guard and the second with words engraved at the top: _Moorland House_. Martin had told him once that _Moorland House_ was conceived as the original name of the state, but everybody refers to it as _Moorland Manor_ or simply _the manor_ , because of the size. There are trees around the limits of the property and beautifully cared for flowers lining up the road to the house. When Peter parks, Jon notices two more cars: a shiny black Rolls Royce and a cherry red BMW convertible.

“Uncle Nat and the girls are here?” Martin asks Peter.

“I suppose they are.”

The next few minutes are a blur to be honest, they’re greeted by Yvette, the housekeeper, who leads Jon and Martin upstairs to the bedroom wing of the house and the spider is not surprised to be lead to the guestroom, he knows the redhead tends to stay the night at the manor on Saturdays, so it’s no surprise the queen will expect that of him today as well. He doesn’t mind, this is the safest place for them right now. Martin came by to the room a bit after to tell him that his grandmother had requested to talk with him alone, but that he could show him to the manor’s library if he is interested?

So now Jon is standing in the most gorgeous library he has ever seen, with tall bookshelves and huge windows that reach the ceiling and let in the natural light from outside, he is flipping through the pages of a beautiful leather bound book, when his mobile phone chimes in with a reminder: _Call Sasha_. Alright, maybe the books can wait, Sasha was very worried yesterday when he called her from Annabelle’s phone to tell her he won’t be showing up at the archives and she has no way to contact him, so, putting the book where it was, he dials her number.

* * *

**[Excerpt from a phone call between Jonathan Sims Fielding and Sasha James, Saturday, 08:57 am]**

**Sasha:** Martin made it sound like you two were running away together when I talked to him last night.

 **Jon:** Well… I suppose it could be called _running away_ and we’re together, so there’s that… _(noise from Sasha’s side of the line)_ Uh, what was that?

 **Sasha:** Yeah, you’re on speaker, and all our friends are here, so everyone just went into cardiac arrest with what you just said. How are you two holding up?

 **Gerry:** _(on the background of Sasha’s side) Hey, Jon, what the fuck!_

**Tim:** _(also on the background of Sasha’s side) You can’t just say that, Jon!_

**Jon:** Tell those two to stop being dramatic, and to answer to your question, Sasha, we’re fine, we are… we are at the Lukas Manor.

 **Daisy:** _(on the background of Sasha’s side) HEY WHAT_

 **Sasha:** what are you doing there, Jon?

 **Jon:** _(doubtful)_ Martin mentioned something about introducing me to his grandmother…

**Georgie:** _(on the background of Sasha’s side) uh, aren’t you guys moving a little fast? I get Martin already met Annabelle, but Jesus Christ._

**Jon:** _(completely not getting the hint)_ I’m not sure I follow? Anyways, we’re fine you don’t have to worry about us. Now listen, Sasha, I need you, Tim and Melanie to find everything you can about Mc Gregor and Cooper.

**Melanie:** _(on the background of Sasha’s side) but what about Jonahlias?_

**Jon:** we can get back on that later, now I really need you to find everything about those two.

 **Sasha:** yes, about that… Jon, there’s something you need to know… Officer Cooper was attacked yesterday morning.

 **Jon:** _(surprised, his voice is barely above a whisper)_ Attacked…?

 **Sasha:** They found her on the steps to her building, she was badly bruised up and… well, it seems like someone tried to strangle her… _(doubtful)_ and whoever did it left a red kiss mark on her cheek for some reason?

 **Jon:** a red kiss mark? _(realising, tone turns colder than the North Pole)_ I see. I may not be the only one she was set on hunting; I don’t see how she being attacked is our business, we have to keep looking into her and Mc Gregor’s past- _(static rises)_

 **Sasha:** Hey, what’s that noise? Jon, I can barely hear you!

 **Jon:** _(completely unaware as the static continues at a lower volume)_ What noise? I can hear you just fine!

**??:** _(on the background of Jon’s side) You must be the famous Jonathan._

**Jon:** Jesus! Oh, sorry, hello, you, um… just startled me… ma’am.

 **Sasha:** Jon??? What’s going on??

**??:** _(on the background of Jon’s side) Oh, I apologise, where are my manners? I’m Odeta Lukas, lovely to meet you. My grandson does talk a lot about you, he surely holds you in very high regard, Jonathan._

_(Static rises until the call cuts)_

* * *

**Saturday 12 th, May, 2018, Kent, 09:18 am**

“Would you like some more pastries? I had them brought fresh this morning” Odeta says as she gestures towards the porcelain plate in the middle of the table.

“They’re great, thank you” Jon manages to say, after trying one mostly out of politeness, but also because he is a sucker for cherry Danishes. “What is it that you wanted to discuss, Mrs. Lukas?”

“Oh, please, don’t be so formal, _motănel_ _,_ just call me Odeta.”

If someone asked Jon what meeting the Queen would be like, he would have never guessed that she would offer him tea and pastries, then again, she may be the queen, but she is still related to Martin, so he should have expected this. Martin is sitting right next to him, so that does make Jon feel a little bit better. In that way that being in front of new people makes us introverted and awkward people alike feel better when someone we know it’s at our side.

“Well, Odeta, then please call me Jon.”

“Very well, then. Now that pleasantries are out of the way, let’s move to what concern us, shall we? A little red bird may have told me that you’re planning to go against Elias, yes?”

Jon practically chokes.

“Ah, wha-what…? I- I, um, right… so…!”

Odeta laughs.

“ _Nu-ți face griji,_ _motănel_ , I’m not against you! In fact, I would like to offer my assistance”, Jon’s confused face must be funny, for the queen laughs again, Jon then turns to look at Martin, who chuckled too, but he only smiles at him. The woman stops laughing and her face turn serious. “Elias has brought nothing good to this family, you see, and don’t think I don’t know what he has done to my Martin” now, when Jon turns to look at his… boyfriend? Yeah, let’s go with that, they can talk about it later, when they’re alone, Martin is looking down.

“Nana…” he tries.

“Oh, _ursulet_ , I’m not mad” her tone and the way she looks at him make something in Jon’s chest _sting_ , because it very much reminds him of the way Emma would look at and talk to him as a kid, “if anything I am mad at Elias for hurting you, but you should have told me, I would have done something much sooner” she places her delicate teacup on the table between them and her hands on her lap. “Killing him is of course out of the question, I may not be the most loving of mothers, but I would like Peter to continue living.”

“I can’t vouch for you being a good mother, Nana, but you surely are a fantastic grandmother.”

“Oh, stop it, you flatterer”, there’s that look again as they both smile at each other and it makes Jon feel out of place in the little scene. “Now, back to the matter at hand” her features harden again. “Except for killing him, I will make sure you get help with whatever you need, Jon.”

“How similar are you powers to Martin, if you, uh, don’t mind me asking?”

“Very similar, he does take after me, after all”, her frown has turned into a smile and her words are laced with pride.

“I mean, I’m not as powerful as you, Nana…”

“But with time you will be” she interrupts, “why the question, Jon?”

“I just like knowing what variables I’m working with, I, uh, would like to thank you in advance for your help.”

“Quite the charming gentleman you’re, Martin was not exaggerating”, cue Martin choking on his tea or what’s left of it, Jon just stares at him with a cocked eyebrow, but the redhead just hides his blushing face behind the now empty teacup. “If you two are done with your teas, why don’t you go show him the beach, dragul meu? There’s quite the nice weather outside.”

“Sure, sure” he hurries to say.

“Ah, one more thing, if you two don’t mind leaving early in the morning, I would love it if you two stayed the night.”

“I would love to, thank you for your hospitality” Jon rushes to answer, because when the queen asks you to stay at her palace, you don’t say _no_ also Martin looked at him with rather hopeful eyes, so there’s that too. They both get up from the table in Odeta’s study before he remembers something. “Oh, actually”, he turns to the other man, “you go ahead I will meet you in the hall” Martin nods and exits the room with a look that tells Jon that he knows what he is planning to ask of his grandmother, of course he does, Jon did talk it out with both him and Annabelle in separate occasions, both thought it was a great idea, but let’s see if it’s the same with Odeta.

“Any ideas of yours that I should be aware of…?” she prompts, leaving the question hanging in the air.

“Hm, well, if you’re amenable to it, how do you feel about taking responsibility for Gertrude’s death?” Odeta cocks an eyebrow, “of course I don’t mind for you to turn yourself in or- or anything, but, um, what if you were the one who gave the order? She hurt your family, so it would be understandable if you sent someone to…uh, make amends?”

“And who will be that someone?”

“Me, of course, Elias did try to frame me for both her murder and Leitner’s, so it should be easy, I know a lot of people respect Elias for getting rid of Gertrude, so that may take away part of his reputation if people start having at least an inkling of doubt about the truth of that statement.”

“Hm, very well, I shall allow you to say you killed her on my orders, wouldn’t be the first time I order a hit.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, did you think Elias killed Jane Prentiss because he cared about you and your little friends, because he cared about your well-being?” she laughs, “do you really think I would allow for her to walk freely and without consequences for what she has done?”

“Does… does Martin know?”

“I suppose he does, I never told him, but he may as well have figured it out on his own, he is way smarter than he allows for people to believe. Even if he did, we both know he is quite skilled at making up excuses for those whom he cares about, but I believe he is aware that I did it out of love” she takes the last sip from her tea cup and taps the rim of the porcelain as she looks into it thoughtfully, before her light blue eyes set on him, freezing him on the spot, did… did the room’s temperature just drop a couple degrees…? “Martin is the most precious treasure I have, I do trust you will treat him _accordingly_ ” the tea cup is placed with so much more force than necessary on the table that Jon is surprised when it doesn’t break. The chill in the room dissipates and Odeta goes back to her cheerful tone. “Now go, don’t leave my grandson waiting.”

Jon doesn’t rush out of the room, not really, but he does walk faster than necessary, and probably not out of a desire of joining Martin as soon as possible, and Odeta admits she may be impressed that he manages to keep most of his composure.

“How much have you heard?” she asks into the empty room, which does not remain empty for long, as she feels a shift in the air behind her armchair, she cranes her neck to see Nathaniel behind her, one hand resting against the back of the chair. “Nathaniel?”

“Enough, I suppose” it’s what he answers, as the fingers of his free hand brush away a lock of hair that has fallen in her face, “so.”

“So” she repeats, “are you alright with this, helping him, I mean?”

“The Ice Queen herself, asking for my opinion? Why, I am honoured.”

“Your opinion is irrelevant, Nathaniel, I’m still going to help him” he can see in the glint on her eye that she is only joking.

“Can I ask why?”

“Raymond Fielding helped me once; I fully intend to return the favour. I figured you would also like to help, you never liked Elias, after all, always wanted something different for our son, yes?” Nathaniel makes a surprised noise. “What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, I guess I just… like when you refer to him that way.”

“Well, he is yours, and even if he has only recently found out about it you have always been there for him, you have surely been more of a father than August’s ghost, that’s for sure”, after smiling at each other, she seems thoughtful. “Alfred Mc Gregor, though, my, I haven’t heard that name in… what, thirty, forty years?”

They fall into silence, and Odeta looks at him, as he stares at the window, both hands resting on the handle of his cane as he stands there. For a moment, just a fleeting moment, he looks just like that handsome young man she met on that Summer she had since long forgotten, she found him rather charming, more so than his younger brother, that’s for sure. Sometimes, when she looks at him, she wonders about what could have been if…

He turns to look at her, interrupting her train of thought and noticing she is smiling.

“What is it?” she shakes her head, _nothing_ , she doesn’t say, she doesn’t need to. “You know, you were right, there _is_ quite the nice weather outside, shall we take a stroll down the gardens?” he offers his arm to help her up and her smile is even brighter.

“Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scottish honeymoon time! Jon deserves it after all I put him through <|3
> 
> Okay so, quick translations of things Odeta has said this chapter:
> 
>  _motănel:_ this is a Romanian pet name, used exclusively to refer to a man and it means _little tomcat._
> 
>  _Nu-ți face griji, motănel:_ _Don't worry, little tomcat._
> 
> Okay, is anyone else excited about seeing what will Jon and Martin be up to in Scotland next chapter? Because I am! Is there anything you guys will particularly want to see? Do tell me!
> 
> See you soon!


	11. The Tale of the Six Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statement of Officer Alfred Mc Gregor, regarding a failed mission in Kent in 1979, statement given in person in 1990.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Soundtrack:** Bartender (Lana del Rey), Safe and sound (Taylor Swift) Catch me if you can (Walking on Cars), Stray Italian Greyhound (Vienna Teng), First Love (The Maccabees)

**Sunday 13 th, May, 2018, 09:48 am**

… _The poetry inside me it’s warm like a gun…I bought me a truck in the middle of the night, it’ll be buy me a year if I play my cards right. Photo free exits from baby’s bedside, ‘cause they don’t yet know what car I drive. I’m just trying to keep my love alive, with my bartender hold me all night. Bartender, our love is alive, baby, remember I’m not drinking wine, but that cherry coke you serve it’s fine, and our love’s sweet enough on the vine… bartender, bartender…_

“Stop pouting, I am not letting you get Princess out of the carrier, she is sleeping, Jon.”

“First, I am _not_ pouting, and second, she will get lonely back there!”

“She is a Lukas, she will be just fine” a pause as Martin stares at the road ahead of them, they did indeed leave the manor very early in the morning, barely past seven am. To be honest, he still can’t believe that this is happening, it feels a little bit like a daydream; he is leaving England _with Jon_ , together, just the two of them. Jon could have chosen any of their friends, but he _choose him_ , he _choose_ _Martin_. Jon went specifically to him and asked him to come with, it probably did not mean as much to him, but it had meant the _world_ to Martin.

So, now, in the car Nathaniel lend them and on route to somewhere in Scotland, Martin wants to be honest and tell Jon _everything_ , he wants to confess his feelings for him, how it doesn’t matter where they are as long as they’re together, how the way Jon sneaks glances at him when he thinks Martin isn’t looking makes him burn with both love and desire (even if he knows Jon won’t reciprocate either of those), but… no, later, maybe, when they’re a bit more relaxed, there’s still a long way until they reach their destination and Jon still looks _so_ tense, no, later it is, maybe with a cup of tea, enjoying whatever it is that Daisy calls a safe house (hopefully not a murder cabin, though!).

_I bought me a truck in the middle of the night, 60 MPH on PCH drive, head to Long Beach to Newport by your side, as they don't yet know where I reside 60 miles from the last place I hide with my bartender, hold me all night. Bartender, keep love alive, Bartender…_

“I was hoping we could stop in Glasgow” he blurts out, shaking Martin out of his rainbow coloured daydreams of walking with him through the Scottish landscapes.

“Sure, sure, anything specific you want to see? Oh, we can actually make this a holiday! We could make stops, visit tourist spots…!” Jon chuckles and Martin deflates. “What?”

“Oh, I’m- I’m not _laughing at you_ , I just… I admire your ability to see the good even in the worst of situations, it’s… well, Martin, you amaze me.”

“Ah…” how is he even supposed to answer to _that_? “Thank you?”

Jon bites his lips, and it looks like he wants to say more, but Martin remembers that _actually_ he should be paying attention to the road, no matter how empty it may be and tears his gaze away from the beautiful man sitting next to him, in the passenger seat, with a blanket over his lap. They go back to the silence, only the music playing from Martin’s mobile phone, but only because he didn’t have USB cable to connect it to the car’s radio. Jon hasn’t complained _yet_ about his music taste.

“Are you okay with this, Martin?” it’s the sudden question that comes out of Jon’s lips.

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to be more specific. I’m okay with stopping in Glasgow if that’s what you mean-”

“No, I mean, in general, are you okay with… well, this whole _running away_ thing? I know it was a lot to ask of you” he chuckles and Jon’s face falls. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just ironic” he chuckles again, laughing so he doesn’t cry, a classic, “it’s just… how can you be so _blind_?”

_How?_ , he thinks bitterly, decidedly not looking at Jon, because otherwise he is going to cry for real and he is _driving_ for Heaven’s sake, _how can Jon not see that is where Martin wants to be? How can he look at him at not realise what Martin’s feels?_ He has been told several times and by several people that he is like an open book, so either Jon is blinder than a bat or he just… doesn’t want to acknowledge Martin’s feelings, then why ask him to come along? He doesn’t understand.

“I- I don’t understand, Martin, what is it that I’m not seeing?”

“Never mind, I’m just being silly” he shakes his head, a practised smile on his face, Jon can taste lies, can he detect false smiles too? Ridiculous is what he is, he and Jon can talk properly when they reach the safe house, for now… “Do you like the music?” without waiting for an answer he turns the volume up.

_…Just close your eyes, the sun is going down, you’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now, come morning light, you and I will be safe and sound…_

* * *

**Sunday, May 13 th, Scottish Highlands, 2018, 06:08 pm**

“ _Pholcidae… Latrodectus_ … _Theraphosidae…_ ” he mutters under his breath, Jon is the kind of person who finds repetition calming, he usually just plays with his bracelet, but since his hands are busy he finds himself repeating words, the more complex the better since he needs to pay more attention to them. “ _Pholcidae… Latrodectus_ … _Theraphosidae…_ ”

By the time they had reach the safe house the sun was already setting, casting a weak orange glow on the countryside landscape. They had made a quick stop in Glasgow to buy some groceries and a few other things and even took a few pictures. After that tense and confusing conversation two hours or so into their trip, they managed to not make it awkward (quite the feat) but now that they’re finally in the dusty cabin, Jon can’t stop thinking about Martin’s words: _“it’s just… how can you be so **blind**?” _

Blind about _what_? Jon frowns at a stain that refused to go as he continues thinking about that conversation, while he set to, first, thoroughly clean up the kitchen counter and then wash up some kitchen utensils, because he is not preparing anything in this kitchen until the place is spotless. Martin meanwhile went to make the bed, after asking Jon where he put the sheets, it felt strangely domestic and Jon can’t help but to think that he wants to stay here in Scotland for a _long_ time. He and Martin still need to talk… about a lot of things.

Dinner is a quiet affair, so far they had managed to clean the kitchen, put away the groceries (most of the things on their grocery bags were picked by Martin; Jon is used to more varied ingredients at home since he prefers preparing meals from scratch, but he let the redhead take care of the shopping when they realised they had no idea what the kitchen would look like), and, thanks to Martin, get the bedroom ready. Jon insists on washing the dishes too, but Martin insists more. In the end, the spider tells him that he will wait in the bedroom for him, not looking back to see the face the other makes at that.

The so-called bedroom lacks a door, but it has the necessary things to be called such, including a big queen sized bed, over which Martin has left two things, probably from before dinner: an open book face down on the bedspread and his phone, which is playing a soft song Jon does not recognise.

_Catch me if you can. I just got my head down, and I'm a little bit scared tonight. I need to run just far enough, so I can smile again, smile again, so I can smile again. Take me by the hand, take me by the hand. But don't you get too close now, 'cause I'm a little bit scared of life. I need someone to try and bring me back to innocence, innocence…_

Fitting he supposes, as he changes into pyjamas, an old pair of flannel bottoms and a long sleeved winter shirt, shivering against how cold the clothes are as he does so. He sits on the made bed, staring at the window in the wall the bed is against, aesthetically pleasing but impractical, he hopes not to wake up with a cold or something, the only lights in kilometres are those of the cabin, he cranes his neck trying to get a peek of the sky, it was cloudy when they arrived, would he be able to see the stars if he tries? He is not particularly interested in space, but the view could have been nice.

He is so caught up trying to stare out the window that he doesn’t hear when the faucet in the kitchen stops running, but he does hear Martin’s heavy footsteps coming towards him, he enters and their gazes meet, Martin smiles sheepishly. Jon awkwardly pats the space next to him, God, he is terrible at this. The redhead sits on the edge of the bed, carefully as if not wanting to disturb him and leaning back on his hands, soft music continues playing from his phone.

“So…” Jon starts, fully intending on having the much needed talk right now, even rehearsing what he is going to say, but… “did you like the food?” is what comes out instead. He wants to slaps himself.

“Yeah, you have quite the touch, never known grocery store ramen could taste _that_ good!” they smile at each other, “but that’s not what you wanted to talk about is it?”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“I wish, no, it was mostly your reaction to what I said back there this morning, I know it kind of came out of nowhere…”

Martin can do this, yeah, he totally can. He is a big boy, he will own up to his bloody words and face the consequences like a man. Isn’t this all he has always wanted, to confess to Jon, to have a Happy Ever After? Now is the time. Odeta’s words ring through his mind… _“_ _You’re a Lukas, and what do we do when we want something? **We take it.** ”_ So now Martin is going to _take_ his chance, take a dive if you will, and talk this through with Jon. He can take a rejection, he worships the embodiment of Loneliness and Heartbreak and Hopelessness and he likes it, he will be fine.

“What did you mean, by saying I don’t see?”

“Well, uh, for starters, I… I wanted to come here, I really do, Jon, I need you to understand that, because you seem to think the opposite.”

“I know that, I just… I don’t think we are in the same page? I think we both interpreting this whole _running away_ thing in different ways.”

“Well, how do you interpret it?” Jon doesn’t answer, “look, I won’t get mad if you just wanted me to come because I can keep you safe, the rules and all that…”

“That’s not it at all, I, uh, right…” he gestures wildly, not meeting Martin’s eyes. “Um, it may have to do with safety, but not in the way you think, I wanted to come with you because… because you make me _feel_ safe, I know that technically speaking, yes, you can physically keep me safe as well, but I… your presence just makes me feel better, okay? You make me feel better. There, I said it.”

“Oh, Jon…” he stretches his hands out, a silent offer, Jon notices and, still without meeting his eyes, takes them. “I think we are on the same page after all; I do want to keep you safe, I… I care about you, Jon, a lot” _a lot more than I am willing to admit right this second_ , he thinks, “you’re always taking care of others, did you notice? Preparing the meals, making sure no one gets hurt, in your own way you always try to help and make things better… you’re so sweet, Jon, but who takes care of you?” he opens his mouth to answer. “Other than yourself, Jon” he closes his mouth so quick his teeth click; he looks away with a frown on his face. “If you wanted, I could take care of you…”

Jon freezes up, still staring away and for ten full seconds Martin thinks he blew it, but the man slowly turns to look at him. the way he does it breaks Martin’s heart all over again, the spider looks almost like he doesn’t understand why is he telling him that, so he cups his cheek, slightly moving closer to him, the other presses his palm to the hand on his cheek.

“Why?”

“I told you, I care about you, you have no idea what you mean to me” Jon’s breath hitches, like he is holding back a sob as he stares anywhere but Martin. “So, what do you say?”

“Okay” he breathes out. “But, only if I can…” a pause, their eyes meet again “…take care of you as well?”

“I would love that” he smiles, before letting go of the other’s hands, giving him an apologetic smile, “hey, I, uh, didn’t want to assume but, uh, should I get some blankets and move to the living room?”

“No, stay with me” he practically orders, his hands coming to grip a fistful of hoodie each, before his tone softens, “can you stay? We can do anything you want, except for sex; but we can cuddle or just talk…?”

“I would love to, just let me, uh, change into pyjamas first, okay?”

“Can I have a hug before you leave?”

Martin smiles, before wrapping his arms around Jon, holding him tight but gently for a few seconds, and kissing his temple as he parts from him. Once that’s done, he takes his pyjamas from his suitcase and heads for the bathroom, a tiny little thing next to the main bedroom, he is glad he doesn’t have to sleep on the couch, with all the dust it just looks like a sad place to sleep in.

He takes a moment, resting his hands on the sink and breathing deeply, that conversation went better than expected and he has to bite his lips to keep a giggle from escaping his lips. _Get a hold of yourself and stop acting like a lovesick gay schoolboy!_ Listening to himself for once, he does just that and gets ready, pyjamas, brushing his teeth and then splashing his face with a bit of cold water, just in case he is blushing.

When he gets back, Jon has already fallen asleep, lying on his back. Martin smiles upon seeing him as he climbs into the bed. It has been a very long day, for both of them, but the redhead suspects he didn’t get much sleep the night before either. Back at the manor, when he had knocked on Jon’s door at six am sharp the spider was already wide awake and ready to leave. Well, it makes sense; Jon is finally getting a breather from the whole stalker situation that has plagued him for most of the year.

He looks so peaceful as his chest raises and falls in synch with his breathing, Martin kind of wants to lean down and kiss his forehead, but that wouldn’t be exactly appropriate, so he settles for pulling the blankets further over Jon and then moves to turn off the lights of the bedside lamp.

In the morning, Jon wakes up with the sunlight on his face and a pounding headache, the bed is cold and empty in the place where Martin should be, and that makes him sit upright right away. His first thought was _they found us, they found us_ , he tries to call Martin’s name but he only manages a shaky breath, before throwing away the covers with trembling hands and crossing the wide bed to place his feet on the cold hardwood floor.

“Jon, are you awake?” comes a voice from outside the room and Jon almost collapses into bed in relief.

Martin peeks into the room, his smile bright as he realises Jon is, in fact, awake. Relief immediately fills the spider as the other man comes into the room with two steaming mugs. They go over the tasks for the day, the same way they would have done back when Martin still worked at the archives, to be honest, Jon had missed that. The little mornings they spent in the breakroom preparing a to-do list, it was like their thing, it all started after he found out about the other man’s lack of degree and suggested Martin came to him whenever he had a problem _“I already help you with your supernatural inquiries, don’t see why not help you with the mundane ones as well_ ”, he said back then, citing a love for explaining things, it had been a way Jon had of making it up to Martin for how he treated and he ended up leaning things as well, given the redhead’s previous experience in the library ( _Martin, what do you mean I am not supposed to staple the files?_ , he remembers asking when a very horrified Martin told him to _stop that_ ).

However this morning is different, and not only because of the fact that they’re miles away from home in a cabin by themselves, but because upon finding out about his headache, Martin, sweet, wonderful, patient Martin insists on Jon going back to bed to _sleep the headache off_ , so Jon finally relents and goes back to sleep, only to wake up hours later while lunch is being served and with his headache gone.

The day is spent cleaning around the cabin with music playing and comfortable light chatter, the place is small enough that every now and then they would find themselves in each other’s space, maybe their hands would brush when handing each other the duster or maybe Martin would place a gentle hand on Jon’s back when he is passing behind him and the casual little touches are a welcome novelty that, honestly, has required all of Jon’s strength not to drag Martin to the bedroom for an impromptu mid-afternoon nap that would involve _lots_ of cuddles.

By dinner time, he is actually feeling much better, like he can just let himself… relax. They’re safe here, they’ll be fine here. He washes the dishes this time while Martin goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he gets back, Jon has already got under the covers and it’s eyeing the poetry book Martin had been reading. Their eyes meet when he steps into the room and Jon smiles again as he places the book on his nightstand and opens the covers for him, patting the empty space. Martin wants to think he walks towards the bed at normal speed.

Jon tells him to get under the covers already, which he does without much more prompting. Once they’re lying down and facing each other, the spider turns the lights off, and by lights one means the bedside lamp, the only source illuminating the room, well that and the dim glow on both of their eyes, wow, it’s really easy to forget that those who are like them have glowing eyes in the dark and it’s even easier to forget that it’s not supposed to be a normal thing.

Despite that, it’s so, so dark and quiet, Martin is sure the only thing he can see are Jon’s purple eyes and the three dots underneath each one glowing the same colour, and all he can hear is Jon’s breathing.

“Are you tired?” this last one asks.

He is more awake than a coffee addict, to be honest.

“Not really, what about you, are you tired? We did have a very long day.”

“No, um, I was hoping we could talk a bit more” is what he says as an answer. “There’s something… I want to talk about us, if you’re okay with that? Just… it’s not something I talk about often, but I want to make things clear between us.”

“Actually, yeah” he agrees, turning to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling, or more accurately, staring at the darkness where he knows the ceiling is. “So, where do you want to start?”

“How much do you know about asexuality?”

“The basics…? Like, I knew about asexuality before but I may or may have not looked up some more info on it when I saw your ace-shaped pin that first June we worked together… oh, god, that sounds creepy, to clarify, I just didn’t wanted to say something _insensitive_ or make you uncomfortable” Jon mutters something that sounds similar to _that’s sweet_ , so Martin continues, “so, I found that asexuality comes in different… types… categories? No, that doesn’t sound right, too technical… flavours? Yeah, let’s go with that, asexuality comes in different flavours”, now Jon laughs.

Jon does not usually talk about his sexuality, yes, he does wear the black ring and the ace pin and has the pride flag sown into his leather jacket, but talking it’s a different subject entirely for him. With Martin, though, he finds expressing himself freely, Martin is patient when he stutters or pauses for too long: Basically, his relationship with sex is complicated in the best of days, he doesn’t want to do _that_ with Martin, but he likes the way he sometimes catches Martin looking at him. Plus, Jon has next to no experience with allosexuals partners, but he can’t tell Martin that without outing Georgie, which he deems unnecessary. In the end, however, Jon finds himself feeling relief wash over him, it was easier to talk than he expected it to be.

“Alright, no sex; got it” it’s what the redhead says, no answer as he feels the bed slightly dip when Jon shifts in place. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re surprised!” more silence. “Okay, first, I have been in love with you _for literal years_ , Jon, I’m not going to stop just because you don’t want to have sex with me. And second, sex is nice and all that…”, he shrugs, trailing off, before remembering that Jon can’t see him in the darkness, his own eyes had somewhat adjusted to it, but it’s still mostly dark out with a tiny bit of moonlight peeking through the courtains every now and then. “Point is, sex is great, but have you ever run away to Scotland with the man of your dreams?”

“Am I the man of your dreams? Martin, good Lord, you need better dreams.”

“It’s my dream and I get to choose the man to go with it, plus, have you ever looked in a mirror? You’re pretty handsome.”

“I may not experience attraction, but I know a handsome man when I see it, I’m not one… you on the other hand, are, in fact, pretty handsome” he huffs, “what? You’re! I love your eyes, and your freckles, and that weird way in which you laugh” now Martin covers his face, which is burning, as he lets out a noise that sounds like half a laugh and half a groan. Jon, on his part, starts patting the space between them. “Sorry, I want to hold your hand, where is it?”

“Here, wait, where’s yours? God, it’s so dark in here, how can you even see-” he stops midsentence. “Wait, you can’t see?”

“No, I can’t see in the dark, whatever gave you that idea?”

And Martin can only open his eyes wide, staring in disbelief at the place he thinks Jon is occupying, judging by the glow of his eyes, because he remembers, oh, of course he remembers, that day they told Tim and Sasha about the entities, when they had to hide in the tunnels, and he was crying because he had a fight with Tim…

_“Oh, I’m not that sad, you don’t have to-…” he had said when Jon offered his hand to him._

_“It’s not that. Can you see in the dark?” too weirded out by the question, he just shook his head no. “Ah, I see, I know some patrons grant their avatars the ability to see in the dark, but I was not sure if the Lonely did the same, “anyways, I can see in the dark, give me your hand, if the torches die down I don’t want to lose you in the tunnels.”_

And that was it, they held hands until they stumbled upon Michael in the tunnels, who came by because he had gotten a message from a worried Annabelle about Jon, but the spider lady was actually at her then boyfriend’s flat, while her phone was in the archives. Knowing what they do now, it’s not hard to put two and two together and realise that it was probably another of Elias’ schemes to get Jon out of the institute before Leitner could talk to any of them.

“You lied to me” he mutters in disbelief, “you told me you could see in the dark, when we were hiding away from the monster on the table!”

“Oh, ah, yes, I remember now. I’m sorry, but I assure you it’s the only time I lied to you, even before I told you what I was.”

“Seems like something silly to lie about” no answer. “Jon…?”

“You were _crying_ , Martin; what was I supposed to do?” he snaps, annoyed. The redhead just laughs, turning to lie on his side again, and, after a few awkward seconds of patting the space around him, pulls Jon closer to him, and he answers by burying his face in the crook of Martin’s neck. “To be fair, it’s not completely a lie, I can find my way around the darkness because of the vibrations, the same way some spiders would, if I was a wolf spider instead of a tarantula I could probably see in the dark. Anyways, thanks for listening to me, do you have anything you need to let me know?”

“Ah, you mean like, my boundaries?” Jon hums an affirmative noise, “oh, none worth mentioning, since we are not having sex. So, those are things we don’t like, so since we are already here, what about things we like? Like, cuddles, kisses, are you okay with those?”

“More than okay” Jon agrees, he brings the hand he has been holding close to his face so he can press a kiss to the back of it. He hears him yawn. “Now, I’m tired, and I think we covered the bases, want to continue this conversation in the morning?”

“Sure, good night, Jon.”

They settle, still holding each other close, when a thought makes it’s way into Martin’s mind, Jon has said that he likes his eyes, but has he always thought like that or…?

“Jon…?” the man hums against his skin, clearly half-asleep, “did you like my eyes more after I had my ceremony?”

Neither of them miss the unspoken question behind that simple inquiry: _did you like me more after I Became more like you?_

“You know…” Jon says, shifting slightly against him, Martin can feel his lips moving over the skin of his neck, “many people in our world would say I am lucky that the Prince set his sights on me, but I think I’m just lucky that Martin did…”

“Oh…” it’s all he can say back. “Jon, I…” but he realises that Jon has already fallen asleep against him and, smiling as well, Martin allows for sleep to claim him as well.

* * *

**Monday 14 th, May, 2018, Magnus Institute, London, 09:30 am**

“Sasha, have you even slept?” Melanie asks, passing a cup of fresh brewed coffee to her friend.

“I don’t need sleep, I need answers” she complains, trying to stifle a yawn and failing. “Or more accurately, I got my answers last night, but now I need to show you, right, Tim?”

Tim pauses from drinking the coffee Melanie just handed him and gives Sasha his best smile and a thumb up.

“Seriously, guys, this is _huge_ , we found out why Mc Gregor never attacked Jon when he was with Martin and why he never showed up to the bookstore!”

“Yeah, we know why” Daisy says, clearly confused, “because, while we hunters are not told the rules, everybody has heard of the Tale of the Six Hunters and knows to leave the Lukases alone?”

“But for Mc Gregor it’s more than that!” Sasha continues, she does look more awake after a couple sips of coffee. “Listen, I have his statement _right here_ , it was actually with the _Gertrude tapes_ ones, but listen, listen!” with urgency, the Archivist presses _play_ on the battered old tape recorder and it starts to replay the cassette.

_[Click]_

**Gertrude:** Whenever you’re ready, Officer Mc Gregor.

 **Mc Gregor:** Right, I just… listen, ma’am, no word of this can go back to my superiors, but I need to tell someone.

 **Gertrude:** No worries, we do have a strict privacy policy; nobody will know you were here, and if anyone asks, I have never seen you.

 **Mc Gregor:** Good, I guess I will just start then?

 **Gertrude:** Just a second, _statement of Alfred Mc Gregor regarding a failed mission in Kent in 1979, statement given in person in 1990, Gertrude Robinson recording_ , and statement begins…

 **Mc Gregor:** Right, so, my name is Alfred Mc Gregor; I work for the Metropolitan London Police, I have worked there for a while, since my twenties. I am a Sectioned officer, I suppose I don’t need to explain to you what that means _(Gertrude hums in affirmation)_ , alright, I have seen a lot of weird stuff, the weirdest you can imagine. Recently, I had been reminded of my worst case… an older colleague told me that if I wanted to talk about it I should come to you.

I have been an officer for ten years, a Sectioned one for nine of those, I joined the force as soon as I was able, I always wanted to help people, you know? The case that landed me in Section 31 was unremarkable compared to the horrors I faced in these long years. When I first started as a Sectioned officer I got paired up with an older officer, good man, Arthur O’Neil was his name, taught me everything I know. O’Neil had a strange habit that I never understood, he was always jotting down little details about our cases in his notebook, details that never made it to the official reports, mind you, and he would usually just dismiss my questions about them, promising me that he would tell me later. He never did in case you were wondering, but I did have a chance to finally look at one of his notebooks, he died recently and I helped his kids pack away his stuff, the notes make no sense to me, even after all these years: things like _The Eye, The Stranger_ where written down in a list beneath each case we had, but, like I said, I still don’t know what that means.

One day, during my first year Sectioned, he came into the precinct more excited than usual, he told me about a _mission_ that would change _everything_. He spoke about rules and hierarchies and I didn’t understand a word, to be honest, but whenever he said _Jump_ , I would answer by asking _how high?_ So, that was that, he got together a group of officers, there were six of us counting both me and O’Neil, and we headed off to this mission later in the week.

I know what you’re thinking, did I not ask where were we going, what were we going to be doing? Truth is, I’m not paid to ask questions, ma’am, I’m paid to do what I am ordered to do. This time it was no different.

We headed to Kent, then, it was very early in the morning and the day was overcast, everything was covered in that grey gloomy light and for some reason I thought that it was fitting. The weather did improve a bit by the time we reached our destination on the outskirts. We headed down to the beach and started walking until we reached a tree line, O’Neil asked us if we were scared, but none of us was, I think I was more curious than scared, I could feel the call of the blood singing in my veins, I somehow knew that this was going to be big, that this will go down in History.

I wish I hadn’t gone at all, I wish none of us had gone at all.

When we finally breached through the treeline, we found ourselves in a graveyard, littered in clearly well-cared for headstones, there was an old chapel as well, it’s doors closed shut with a thick and heavy-looking padlock. What called my attention was not the padlock, but the strange carving on one side of the chapel; it was like an octopus with a Latin phrase beneath it. Sorry, I don’t speak Latin and I don’t think I can recall the phrase.

We could now see a house, a manor, Victorian era, I think, but it did looked bigger than it should be, if that makes sense. I recall that it was winter, we were nearing the back porch, and I could feel the salty marine breeze on my face as we walked across the sand, towards the house.

“Who are you?” a voice demanded, “You’re not supposed to be here!”

It was a child sitting on the wooden porch; he looked around ten or eleven, he didn’t look scared of the six armed officers on his backyard, he looked… _annoyed_ that we were there, as if we were interrupting him or something. His arms were crossed and his face turned into a frown. He didn’t seem to mind the cold as he sat there.

“Hi, buddy” O’Neil asked, he was a father of two, so of course he was good with kids, or better than me at least. “What’s your name?” the boy scoffed, like he had just asked a stupid question, but he didn’t answer. “Is your father home?” now the boy tilted his head and proceeded to shrug, alright, so this is not going great.

“Peter, playtime is over” a stern voice with a thick foreign accent called from a few meters away, it was a woman, and it startled us all, since we didn’t hear her approaching. The boy, Peter, turned to look at her. “It’s tea time, dragule, go inside and ask the cook to give you a slice of cake, but wash your hands first. I have to talk with these gentlemen, alright?” Now, the boy nodded and complied.

That would be the first and the only time that I would see her, I recall thinking that she was beautiful… auburn curls partially hidden by the hood of the cloak she was wearing, porcelain white skin… then I saw her eyes, they followed who I presumed was her son as he entered the house, then set on us. For a few seconds, I thought that she was blind due to her lack of pupils, but the way her blue eyes set on O’Neil told me otherwise.

“Is your husband home?” he asked, I heard the determination in his voice.

“Oh, my, you just passed him by” she said as she pointed in the direction we came from, we all turned, I think, but behind us were only the headstones and what I supposed was a mausoleum. “If you’re here for the funeral you’re ten years late.”

I looked at the others, but was only met by confused looks, the only information we had been given was that we were raiding a house to apprehend a monster, which kind of monster was not specified, but given the number of hidden firearms we were carrying I was expecting something… dangerous, but here we were, in front of this woman who looked ready to ask to talk with our superiors about our behaviour.

“Are you the head of the house, then?” O’Neil asked.

“Ah, I see what this is about now.”

The next stretch of time it’s a blur, I consider it a blessing, the only time in which I see those moments clearly it’s on my nightmares, and, boy, am I glad I don’t remember those!

From my point of view it was like the world had vanished all around me, I could still hear the waves crashing on the shore, could still smell the salty air, but all I could see around me was fog. I couldn’t see or hear the others, I found myself shaking like a leaf in the cruellest of winter winds, and it occurred to me that I may never see another again, that I would never be _warm_ again. My teeth were chattering at this point as I tried to get my bearings, I just knew that I had to avoid the sound of the waves to not stumble into the sea, problem was the sound seemed to echo _everywhere_ and I wasn’t sure where was forward and where was backwards.

The lack of direction was not the thing that scared me of course, no, there was another thing: I couldn’t feel the call of my blood in the dense fog and that _terrified_ me. What’s a hunter without the call, after all? Just a misguided blind dog, that’s what.

I tried to get one of my guns out, but the metal of the barrel was freezing and I knew even without firing it that the thing was jammed. I was hyperventilating at this point, trying to make sense of my situation, where was everyone? Where was _I_? I was convinced that nobody was there, nobody would help me, no one would come looking for me, how could they? O’Neil didn’t tell anyone where we were going… I was more than ready to scream for someone, _anyone_ just to prove that I wasn’t alone. I had never had a problem with being alone before, but nowadays I can’t stand being in an empty room by myself, and I’m more than sure that it has everything to do with _her_.

At first I only saw her eyes, those softly glowing blue orbs looking at me from somewhere in the fog, several meters away from me, but only until the fog seemed to just… part to let her through, she walked among the whiteness surrounding us like a spectre, beautiful and ethereal as she approached me. If there had been a confrontation with the others, it didn’t show on her, her clothes and overall appearance were as pristine as when I first laid my eyes on her.

I’m not ashamed to say I yelled. Alright, maybe I am a little bit ashamed, but that’s none of your business.

Anyways, I suppose that her presence should have comforted me, prove to me that I wasn’t alone, but no, she was Loneliness personified and I wanted to be as far away from her as possible so while she continued getting close, slowly walking towards me, I found myself in the ground, scrambling backwards to get away from her, not caring that sand was getting _everywhere_ in my uniform, not caring that I may end up finding the shore behind me, everything was better than what she could do to me.

Then she stopped.

“ _Oh_ ” she said softly, “I see. I think I may have to let you go.” I think I asked what she meant, I don’t really remember, I just know she shrugged, “I can see the loneliness in your heart… you know this is where you belong, don’t you? You know that one day you will come back here…”

Her words made no sense to me, but I still recall them like they were spoken yesterday. What’s more terrifying is that… are you familiar with the Greek myths, Mrs. Robinson? Retelling this story I have remembered one of them I read in secondary school, _Calypso_ , do you remember it? Calypso was a nymph that imprisoned Ulysses in her island for seven years with the power of her voice, singing to him and convincing him to stay, I always thought it was old literary non-sense, but… I started to _believe_ what she was saying. In that moment her words made the fog feel like an old friend welcoming me.

When she moved again, I didn’t move back.

“What’s your name?” I answered her inquiry, and she smiled as she kneeled in front me, getting close enough to whisper something in my ear, “Let’s make a deal, I will never forget your name, as long as you never forget mine, alright?”

And just like that it was over. I don’t know how long had passed, but I opened my eyes and was at the beach again, or perhaps I had never left. The fog had cleared completely and I could see the others, lying across the sand, unconscious and with their skins pale and cold to the touch, but breathing, I checked. She was nowhere to be seen. It was now well past nightfall and the manor’s lights were on, but nobody seemed to be home. I managed to wake all my fellow officers so we could leave, I was still shaking all over, I think a pair of glowing eyes may have staring at us from the windows, but it was so high up I’m not really sure.

We managed to get back the way we came from, but, to our surprise, our superior officers we expecting us; we had been missing for two days, by their accounts we had arrived at the manor early in the morning the day before. O’Neil was suspended for a long time; the other four quit the forces after being discharged from the hospital, so for a while it was just me.

You would think that was it, right? I never saw her again, the thing was over and all that, but the thing is, that was the last time I saw her _in person_. Truth it’s, I see her in every nightmare since then, I see her ice-cold, lifeless eyes, watching me from the nothingness as if expecting me to one day come back and join her in the fog and I’m not as strong as I used to be…

_[Click]_

_[Click]_

**Gertrude:** Final thoughts, well, there’s not much follow up to do, Officer Mc Gregor may have not given us much details, but it’s pretty obvious, given that he mentioned Kent. The carving he mentions in the graveyard’s chapel matches the description of the Lukas family crest and I’m more than sure that there’s only one woman in this world with the power to singlehandedly take down six fully-pledged hunters and come unscathed: The Ice Queen. I may not fully agree with her ruthless methods, but I respect her, she has not won her title by simply sitting around and looking pretty, after all.

The ritual for The Lonely would surely be hard to thwart if she is the one performing it.

_[Click]_

“Oh, my god…” Basira it’s the first to talk.

“So it was true, Mc Gregor was one of the original six, I think I might even respect him a little now.”

“He tried to kill Jon, Daisy, remember?”

“I said I respected him a little, not that I agree with him, Gerry.”

“Alright, maybe it’s my inability to feel fear, but the story… doesn’t seem that scary?”

“No, same here” Sasha says, “I’m not really that scared of being alone, and I guess I would be scared if I didn’t know what was happening… but if I know it’s the Lonely at work…”

“But what if the danger didn’t rely on you not knowing?” Gerry quickly interrupts, “so, what if you know you are there, surely you trust in your Beholding powers to get you out, yes?” she nods, “but what if you couldn’t use them? That’s the true danger of the Lonely, the nothingness, _the numbness_ , going by Mc Gregor’s statement, if you stay too long you slowly start to get comfortable, which leads you to lose your powers, and whose fear are you going to feed off if you’re alone, anyways?”

“You’re… you’re saying the Lonely kills avatars through starvation?”

“Not exactly, Tim” they shake their head _no_ , “the Lonely turns the feared into the fearful, wouldn’t you panic if you suddenly could not control the darkness the way you do? What The Lonely does is strip you of your powers and then feed on your fear, Jon and I told you before, the Lukas family doesn’t reign our world just because they one day decided so, they have the money _and_ the power to back up the royal titles they choose for themselves.”

“Technically, Martin didn’t choose his; he told me his Nana gave it to him.”

“Fair, but you know what I meant, Sasha. Anyways, we unlocked Mc Gregor’s backstory, now we have to unlock Cooper’s.”

“Should we send this to Jon?”

“Nah let him enjoy his honeymoon with Martin in Scotland, Sash” Tim chimes in, “let’s wait either for him to get back or for us to find something more substantial.”

“I wonder what they are doing right now…” Georgie wonders out loud.

* * *

**Monday, May 14 th, Scottish Highlands, 2018, 10:08 am**

“Do I have to crawl across the floor for you to pay attention to _me_?” Martin practically snaps behind him.

Jon looks at him over his shoulder, very confused, only to find Martin with his back to him and facing Princess’ carrier, she is stubbornly remaining inside of it, no matter how many treats the redhead waves in front of her. He sighs and gets up, leaving the Dreamies cat treats package on what serves as the kitchen’s table. He smiles at Jon upon noticing him and he smiles back.

“Is she still refusing to eat?”

“No, I mean, I kind of tried to leave her a trail of croquets for her to follow, but she just eats them and goes back into the carrier” Martin pursues his lips, “I’m worried, do you think she is okay?”

“She is just getting used to the new place I suppose” Martin shrugs. “Do you want to go take a walk? Maybe we could visit the village like you wanted to.”

Martin agrees and sooner than expected they’re exiting the little cabin. It’s a bit chilly out, but that’s spring, almost summer, in Scotland for you, so Jon adjusts his scarf as a smile blooms in Martin’s face.

“Is that the sea? I hear the sea.”

“Um…? Oh, yeah, I think we are quite close to the Port of Inverness. Shall we?” he asked, gesturing at the car. It is seven minutes by car and almost thirty on foot, so the decision is clear.

The village close to the safe house wasn’t exactly rural, it has farms and markets and the usual thing you would see in such places, but it also had several tourist traps, including a gift shop and a cinema theatre that Jon makes a note about telling Martin to put in his _places to visit_ list, he had been making one since this morning. They stopped by the port, where a lot of cargo ships were loading and unloading big metal containers, before heading down to the beach for a walk.

“Well, no wonder Peter said Scotland is beautiful this time of the year…” Jon mournfully mutters. Martin is not sure if he was meant to hear it; his boyfriend does have that bad habit of muttering to himself at the worst of times possible, not that Martin really minds it.

The beach is covered in a thick fog that doesn’t allow seeing more than a meter or two further, as they walk through it, paying attention to the sounds and the smells around him (a siren, the salty breeze on his face), Jon starts to notice that, every now and then, Martin’s hand would brush against his, so his attention shifts to that, noticing the twitch in the redhead’s hand every time their hands brush against each other.

“What’s wrong with your hand?”

“ _Oh my god_ ” Martin mutters in frustration as he pinches the bridge of his nose, crooking his glasses, he adjusts them and grabs Jon’s hand, “just hold my hand, you stupid spider!” his face a bright red as he takes his hand, then the grip softens when he notices how tense Jon seems to be, “unless you, ah, don’t want to? Sorry, I did not mean to be pushy-…”

“It’s fine” he contradicts, interrupting him and tightening the grip on his hand, “you just took me by surprise that’s all.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, you okay with this then?” he nods and gifts him a smile. “Alright, then…”

They walk in awkward silence for a while, until Jon breaks it, mentioning the cinema theatre back in town and suggests adding it to Martin’s list. The redhead proceeds to take out the list and hand it to the spider for him to read, edit it if he wants to as well, it’s not very long, they just got here after all.

“ _Eat deep fried pizza?_ ” he asks, “what’s that?”

“It’s what it says, Jon, they serve it on Scottish chip shops, but probably on the pub as well.”

“Sounds fine by me, but I think I will pass and have a chip sandwich instead.”

“Oh, I think they call those _piece and chips_ here.”

“I see, do you, uh, want to go there for lunch?”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Jon?” he teases.

“Hopefully, it would go better than the last one I asked you on… would you like that, going on a date, I mean?”

“Do you realise you’re asking that to the very same guy who agreed to drive nine hours straight to come hide here with you?”

“Okay, first, they weren’t nine hours at once, we made _stops_ and second, I don’t think either of us can do things straight, Martin.”

They end up walking through the sandy barren beach for a while, only each other and the lone seagulls to keep them company while they do so. Afterwards they go back to the businesses littering the little streets and they enter the nearest chip shop.

* * *

**[Excerpt of a call between Timothy Stoker and Jonathan Sims Fielding, 04:12 pm]**

 **Tim:** _Alright, alright, I know you’re mad… but calm down,_ _hypothetically-…_

 **Jon:** _(interrupting)_ Don’t ask me to _calm down_! You broke into Cooper’s flat while she is in the hospital, without consulting me, may I add, and now you ask me to call down? Exactly what possessed you to do something _so goddamn_ stupid?!

 **Tim:** _First of all, Cooper won’t know we were there, and second, I didn’t break into anywhere, I was in charge of the getaway car._

 **Jon:** _(still angry but audibly more calm)_ How is that any better?

 **Tim:** _Look, Jon, I understand, you’re worried about us and yeah, it was not the smartest move, but when Sasha suggested it seemed like a good idea- uhh, actually forget that last bit… thing is, we found something huge, like I told you, we sent you the papers, first class delivery on the institute funds, mind you, so it should be on the post office by now, but that’s not everything, we sent you an e-mail, you said the library in there has internet, right?_

 **Jon:** Yeah, it does. What are these papers exactly?

 **Tim:** _Look, this is something that needs to be seen not told to, what I can tell you it’s that Cooper seems of have some sort of obsession with you and Annabelle, Melanie joked that maybe Cooper is in love with you._

 **Jon:** Please tell Melanie that I say that I _know_ she knows better than use such a distasteful joke, there has to be another reason.

 **Tim:** _(Exasperated) Of course there has to be another reason, Jon, it was just a harmless joke, but it was kind of creepy, I have seen the pictures the girls took of the wall on her apartment. She had pictures of you, speaking of which, didn’t know you did cosplay._

 **Jon:** _(clearly and deeply confused)_ What’s cosplay? And what do you mean she had pictures of me?

 **Tim:** _Yeah, she had pictures of you, tons of them, one was of you wearing steampunk gear, care to explain that?_

 **Jon:** There’s nothing to explain… _(pause)_ how are Gerry and the girls, are they… okay?

 **Tim:** _Of course, the hunters haven’t bothered us; it seemed that the thing was against you. We are sticking together too, following the Spider’s Rules and everything._

 **Jon:** _(half-hearted scoff)_ I can’t believe you named them _that_ , but I am glad you’re following them, how is that, by the way, you all eating your meals, staying out of trouble?

 **Tim:** _(Jokingly) yes, Dad, we all are eating our veggies and behaving well, we won’t burn the house down while you’re away._

 **Jon:** Good.

 **Tim:** _And how is Marto? Is he there?_

 **Jon:** Oh! Um, he is not here, actually, he is at the library, there’s not much to do at the cabin so he said he would download a couple films. I will tell him you said hi though.

 **Tim:** _Alright, please also tell him I miss him lots and give him a kiss for me?_

 **Jon:** Yeah.

 **Tim:** _(tone casual) So! Now tell me how are you and Martin? How many beds does the safe house have?_

 **Jon:** Goodbye, Tim.

 **Tim:** _Ah, fair enough, be careful out there, yeah? I hope to see you soon, both of you._

 **Jon:** You too, take care of Gerry and the girls for me, will you?

 **Tim:** _Will do, goodbye Jon._

 **Jon:** Goodbye, Tim.

* * *

**Tuesday, May 29 th, Scottish Highlands, 2018, 04:37 pm**

Martin is typing away on Jon’s laptop in a quiet corner of the library at the very back, listening to music with earphones on. The internet is decent enough that he can download films while browsing the web, jotting some ideas on his notebook every now and then. In the back of his mind, he wonders how much longer Jon is going to take to finish his phone call. What had the others found that is taking so long?

Something is placed next to him; he sees it at the corner of his eye and instantly does a double take. It’s a plush toy, a _big_ plush toy in the shape of a fluffy Scottish brown cow to be exact, and the one who placed it there is none other than Jon. He takes one of his earphones off in time to hear him say.

“…in the gift shop and it looked like something you would like” Martin blinks, processing the words, “ah, I mean, you seem to like… cute things? Sorry, is it too childish of a gift?”

The redhead smiles reassuringly and takes the plush toy into his arms.

“I shall name him Scott, the Highland cow” Jon sits next to him, leaving his briefcase on the floor and cocking an eyebrow. “You know, Scott, because he is Scottish?” now Jon laughs beneath his breath, a tiny thing really, but it makes Martin smile like it’s nobody’s business.

“Alright, so, what are you listening to?” Jon accepts one of the earphones Martin is offering and puts it on.

_Oh, not now, please not now… I just stopped believing in happy endings, harbours of my own, but you had to come along did you? Tear down the doors, throw open windows._

They go over what films they’re going to be watching until they are able to visit the library again, Martin tells Jon that _no_ , he won’t tell what he was looking up, since he wants to give him a surprise, he also mentions they need to go to the grocery store again, because Martin also wants to try and bake bread from scratch.

_Oh, if you knew just what a fool you had made me. So, what do I do with this? This stray Italian greyhound, these inconvenient fireworks, this ice-cream covered screaming hyperactive thought, God, I just want to lay down, these colours make my eyes hurt, this feelings calls for everything that I am not…_

Finally, they get around to checking the files sent by their friends, following Tim’s instructions, they open the e-mail first.

It contains two things: everything that can be found about Officer Regina Cooper and pictures of her house, where she happens to have a corkboard full of red strings and pictures. That in itself it’s not really strange, Jon himself has one on his flat and another at his father’s house, as well as several folders full of pictures and important documents, really it’s a luck his bedroom doesn’t look like an archive.

However, these are different. All the information seems to be centred on a single picture that it’s hard to see on the computer, so he checks the papers to see if the others managed to snap a better picture of it. He stops when he finds an article from a newspaper, probably a copy that Sasha dug out to match the one Cooper has, it sends a shiver down his spine: _House fire uncovers a terrible crime_ , he swallows with a certain difficulty as he tries to read it. He can’t, not yet, not when he has a suspicion about what this is about, so he tries to look directly a picture, a picture of a typical Oxford house with smoke coming from within… his childhood house. He catches some sentences, but he can barely make sense of the words: _calcined corpse found beneath foundations of house, left hand missing, unrecognizable_ … he places the paper down on the table, making Martin notice his attitude.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he takes the paper and Jon almost sighs in relief from not having to look at it anymore. “What is this?” Jon doesn’t answer, “oh, Jon…” he says, but the spider has already moved on and it’s sorting through other documents, Martin winces but continues to help him look for the picture. “Oh! I think I found it!” he moves it out of Jon grasp.

“What?” he practically snaps, before backtracking. “Uh, sorry…”

Martin suggests continuing later, since they need to stop by the grocery store to buy some more food, before reminding Jon that they’re going stargazing tonight, something they had been planning for a while, so they pack everything and say goodbye to the lovely lady at the front desk. The closest store is a few meters away from the library.

Martin has a strange relationship with money, remnants habits from when it was just him and his mum, when even a pack of bubble-gum was too much of a luxury, and then a bit after turning seventeen his grandmother found him, _after a long search and even longer wait_ , she said, and he found himself as the lost heir of an old aristocratic family with more than a few coins to spare and that was more than eager to give him everything he wanted. Old habits die hard, he supposes, but not this time, he promised he will make this an actual holiday and spoil Jon rotten. Jon deserves nice things, especially after the hunters thing, so Martin will give them to him.

He is going over the shopping list one more time, crossing out things and making sure he doesn’t forget anything, when he feels and extra weight in the shopping basket he is holding in the crook of his elbow, because Jon has put not one, but _two_ packets of black liquorice.

“Really, Jon?” he asks as he goes back to his list.

“What? It’s the only candy that I eat!”

“Well, if you’re buying that much also grab a tube of toothpaste because I’m not going to kiss you if you eat that, I don’t like the taste.”

“Do you not eat black liquorice?”

“No, why would I eat it if I don’t like the taste?”

“Fine” Jon says, before turning on his heels and turning the aisle’s corner, presumably in search of toothpaste.

Then it dawns on Martin what it is that he just said and he feels his cheeks heat up… it’s going to be a long, long night.

* * *

**Tuesday, May 29 th, Scottish Highlands, 2018, 10:23 pm**

_Because nothing’s perfect; I’ll have to make do…_

They sort of have a routine at this point, so after a dinner cooked by Jon, they go outside with backpack that carries a blanket, a thermos and marshmallows. They don’t get too far from the cabin, but only because it’s not long into their walk until they do find themselves in the woods. Martin had suggested a bonfire as well, but at the last moment they decided against it, it was a bit windy in the afternoon, so it was better not to risk it. A chill breeze flies by every now and then, but with the thick blanket and them lying so close, it doesn’t even matter.

“There are so many stars… I don’t think I have ever seen that many” Martin whispers in awe, staring at sky.

“Me neither” but Jon is not looking at either the stars or even the sky for that matter.

_But it’s my mistake and no mistake, and I would take it back if I could, so stay with me tonight…_

When the redhead turns to look at Jon, he finds himself pinned under his stare; it would usually make him nervous but right now, lying so close, he can’t be bothered, thinking instead how beautiful Jon’s eyes look with the dim moonlight, of how _special_ it makes him feel that he is looking at him that way, how his eyes shine as they look at him, or at his lips, more accurately.

_When I make my bed, I’m laying in it and pillow talk you into it. I’ll make my bed, I’ll lie in it, to entice you in this leopard print and matching velvet duvet…_

He is about to jokingly ask what has him so focused when Jon inches closer as he tenderly caresses his cheek with careful fingertips that bring him to his level so he can capture his lips with his own. Martin only manages to blink as Jon parts from him with a soft smile and even softer look on his eye. His brain must short-circuit because next thing he knows, he is the one kissing Jon this time, one hand cradling his jaw and the fingers of the free one tangled on Jon’s black hair. He kisses him soft and slow, like he has all the time on the world, and he truly hopes that’s the case.

The feeling cursing through his veins has to belong on the pages of a poetry collection, but he can’t for the life of him put it into words, all he can think about is the way Jon tastes, like tea and the smallest hint of cigarettes, or just how warm Jon is the against him, or even the way in which he gasps when they part to breath.

“God, Martin, I love you so much…” he murmurs, eyes still closed and forehead against his. “My _angel_ , _my_ Martin…”

The feeling suddenly has a name: _love_. A love so warm and heavy, yet so light he feels he is going to float away if Jon lets go of him. Jon opens his eyes and his expression turns into a concerned frown that makes Martin cock an eyebrow, but before he can utter a word the man beside him wipes away a treacherous tear sliding down his cheek.

“Martin?”

“Oh, sorry, I’m just really happy, Jon, this… this was everything I have ever wanted…”

Jon doesn’t answer; he just wipes away his tears and tenderly kisses him again.

“ _You_ ’re everything _I_ have ever wanted, Martin…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Now we know what Mc Gregor's deal is :) and we also know why is Odeta referred to as The Ice Queen, good for her!
> 
> Also, look at all that Jmart moments, which one was your favourite?
> 
> See you soon, my lovelies <3


	12. Planning stages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon starts planning his next move against Jonah, he may also have found out more about Cooper…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Soundtrack:** Crooked teeth (Death Cab for Cutie), John, my beloved (Sufjan Stevens), Devil Town (Cavetown)

**Tuesday, May 30 th, Scottish Highlands, 2018, sometime in the early hours of the morning**

If you had asked Martin what the aftermath of his first kiss with Jon was going to be like, he would probably say something like _waking up together in bed, staring into each other’s eyes and then some more kisses before getting up for breakfast_ , what he got instead is waking up to something wet falling on his face: raindrops, small wet dots that make him realise they are both _still outside_ and a look at this mobile informs him it’s well past midnight. The only source of light is the moonlight, barely peeking through the clouds. He shivers in the breeze and notices a wet spot on his shoulder right next to where Jon’s head is resting… _ew, did he drool on me?_

It takes a bit to wake up Jon, but sooner rather than later, they are back inside the cabin. There are two fireplaces on this place, which seems excessive for a cabin this size, but comes quite handy due to one of those being inside the master bedroom. He busies himself with stoking the fire while Jon takes a warm shower. Martin busies himself with making some tea, just to wait as the bedroom warms up, while Jon comes back, hair wet and in pyjamas.

“Do you want to take a shower? I left the water heater on for you.”

Martin leaves the tea in Jon’s charge and goes into the bathroom, for a quick shower and a change of clothes. How did they even manage to fall asleep outside on the cold? Hopefully there will be some cold medicine in this cabin because Martin may not be a psychic but he can surely see a cold in both of their futures.

When he is done, there’s a hot cup of tea waiting for him in the bedroom on a tray over the bed, Princess, who has finally come out of her carrier two days ago, is sleeping right next to where Jon is brushing his hair. Martin allows himself just a moment to simply look at him as the raindrops start hitting harder on the window.

“What?” Jon asks smiling and tilting his head when he catches him looking.

“Don’t play dumb, how can you _not_ know how good you look right now?”

“I am wearing pyjamas and my hair is still wet” he said, quite matter-of-factly, as if anything as silly as that could make Martin find him any less attractive.

Martin rolls his eyes as he gets in bed, next to Jon and being extra careful of the tray with the mugs. He takes one and Jon reaches over him to take the book from the nightstand table, opening it in a random page, or so it seems.

“What have you been reading?” he asks him, eyeing the book he holds on one hand as he reaches to take a mug with the other. He recognises it the moment his eyes lie on the cover, it’s the one Jon got from his bookstore “Don’t tell me you’re going to read now, Jon, it’s two am.”

“Well, I’m not tired, what about you?”

“Not yet, but I most likely will be.”

“Do you think the pub in the village is open at this time?”

“Not with this rain. Why, you want to go?”

“I could use a drink… you know what? We should pick up some in the next shopping trip.”

“You mean _you_ should pick up some, remember that I don’t drink, let alone as strong drinks as you do.”

“Hm…” he answers with a non-comital hum as he leaves the book on Martin’s lap, “read me a poem, please?”

“What, you want me to read you a poem?” he repeats and Jon shrugs, before resting his head against Martin’s arm, mug still in his hands. “Alright, anything specific you want me to read or…?” the question is left hanging in the air for the other to finish.

“You’re the expert, you pick one.”

“Alright…” the reason Martin picked this book in particular for Jon is because it’s one of his favourites. “Let’s see… _The poet asks his love to write to him_ …”

* * *

**Friday June 1 st, Magnus Institute, London, 2018, 10:24 am**

The archives are empty today, well as empty, as they have been in a long time, Tim notes as he stares at the corkboard in front of him. He hopes Jon won’t mind that he has placed his own research there for now. Sasha is recording on her office and Melanie has taken the day off to take Georgie out on a date.

Meanwhile he advances with his own project: trying to create a timeline of the world they live in, because if there’s one thing he learnt back in University when he was studying Anthropology is that you need the socio-political and historical context of a society to study it, so he has been trying his best to organise the know historical events from their world.

He started with local history, which only traced as far back as the Industrial Revolution, world-wide there was a huge chunk missing between that and the case of the Library of Alexandria he has read in statements (and he suspects that the _Those Who Sing The Night_ group mentioned could have been a previous association similar to the People’s Church that Rayner created), there is also the rituals in different parts of the globe, most of them thwarted by Gertrude.

Still, the Magnus Institute predates both the Usher Foundation and the Pu-Songling Research Centre so it will be hard to find accounts from before the institute was funded, hard but not impossible. He has divided the events into fourteen categories, following Smirke’s List; there are a few events he could separate by entity such as The Tale of the Six Hunters or the funding of the Magnus Institute. His eyes travel to the column labelled _Web_ and pursues his lips at seeing how empty it is, he hasn’t found anything related to the Mother of Puppets. He could trace avatars way back in time, but the oldest spider avatar he could find was Raymond… well, guess he would have to wait until Jon gets back to answer that particular riddle.

He gets up and stretches, there’s still a while until lunch, so he ventures into Sasha’s office, where she is organising some papers, the newest statements she just digitised, probably. Tim asks her to use her laptop, to do _a little bit_ of Jonahlias research, before venturing into the tunnels. He feels safer in the dark, but that’s not new, he has felt safe in dark spaces even since before he Become, a fond childhood memory he recalls vividly is that of a little Danny complaining that _you can’t play hide and seek with Tim, he hides in scary places!_

Tim makes himself comfortable in one of the chairs they dragged down into the tunnels and starts typing away. _The Body Snatcher_ _theory_ , as Melanie has labelled it, is his strongest lead, he is not sure how can he prove it yet, it’s not like dear old Grandma Gertrude left any clues as to _why_ in the world was she so sure Jonah and Elias were the same person, it’s not like he can compare them side by side.

“Oh…” he breathes out. “That’s it!”

* * *

**Friday, June 1 st, Scottish Highlands, 2018, 01:43 pm**

He is looking at the picture they found in the library again.

It’s a picture Jon knows well, it was taken twenty years ago or so, it was during Halloween; there he is as a child, holding one of those plastic orange pumpkins to go trick or treating on one hand and Annabelle’s hand on the other, both of them in costumes. This was around the time Emma was around, because there she is as well, dressed as Morticia Addams with Raymond’s (who was dressed as Gomez) arm around her waist, both smiling brightly. There are three other people on the picture, there’s Amanda, Mark and Cori, three of the kids that used to stay with them. Amanda and Mark were the ones who stayed the longest; Jon is still in contact with both of them, actually. Amanda should be doing a tour in London quite soon in fact…

It seems Cooper used the picture as a reference for whom to look for, for she has information about him, about Annabelle, about Raymond, hell, even about Emma… including her missing person’s report, and the results of Raymond’s autopsy, both which Jon had never seen before, there’s also a missing child report of a then six-year-old Annabelle (that was later taken back by Mrs. Cane who alleged being _confused_ ) but what does all of this mean? He has a slight suspicion of what’s Officer Cooper’s deal with his family may be, and he thinks he knows just the right way to take care of her; she and Mc Gregor will actually be quite useful to him…

“Tea time!” it’s Martin’s cheerful announcement that pulls Jon out of his one-sided staring contest with the red string filled corkboard. A tray it’s placed in the coffee table in front of him, he smiles as he puts his papers aside and Martin sits beside him. Princess too comes, she does so to sniff around and see what they’re doing, Jon scratches her behind the ears, “I, um, made a little _something_ ” he gestures at the bowls on the table. “It’s, ah, some bread and butter pudding! You mentioned you liked eating that so I gave it a try” he explains as the man grabs one of the bowls and tries a bit, letting out an appreciative hum. “I’m glad you like it …” he turns to the corkboard, “so, may I hear about your evil schemes now?”

“Since you ask so nicely…”

As stated before Jon loves explaining things, giving carefully crafted explanations, make others understand subjects in the way he does, and Martin loves how excited he gets while doing so, his eyes shine bright as he does big expressive gestures with his hands.

“I mean, it won’t be easy, Martin, this has to be one of the more complicated things I had planned.”

“But it sounds like Elias is going _down_ , and I love it” he approves reassuringly at the end, placing a hand over Jon’s in the table, he smiles.

“Hey, do you want to go to the pub tomorrow after we are done with the errands?”

“Actually, yeah, I could go for another round of deep fried pizza, you?”

“I think I will pass again… but should we get a babysitter?” he asks, gesturing towards Princess, who is purring under Jon’s attentions.

“She is a Lukas, she will be fine for a couple hours while her dad goes on a date”, the redhead too reaches out to caress the cat’s fur while Jon places her on his lap.

Jon laughs at that, and he looks so adorable that Martin wishes he could kiss him, and then he remembers that _actually_ he is allowed to do that, so he leans down and softly presses his lips to his.

“What was that for?” he asks when they part, Martin shrugs.

“Do I need a reason?”

“Fair enough, I suppose. Um, give me another?” he asks, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he tilts his chin up.

And how could Martin say no to such request?

* * *

**Friday June 1 st, Magnus Institute, London, 2018,** **02:08 pm**

“I GOT IT, IT’S THE EYES!! I GOT IT!!” Tim yells, bursting from the trapdoor and into Sasha’s office, startling both her and Melanie.

“Jesus Christ, Stoker!” this last one complains.

“What are you doing here?” he replies, confused, “I thought you took the day off?”

“No, just the morning and lunch time, what were you saying?”

Tim proceeds to lead both women into the tunnels and show them what he has found: he has compiled three pictures of three different men with one thing in common; Richard Mendelson, James Wright and Elias Bouchard, the last three heads of the Magnus Institute. Now, Tim may have worked in a publishing house and knows his way around editing programs such as Corel and Photoshop, but Sasha’s laptop only has paint, so he had to make do. However, he thinks the picture did come out pretty well regardless of the software used, though.

“Alright, as you can see in this picture…” he trails off, prompting either of the women to finish.

“They all have the same eye colour…” Sasha murmurs pensively, before she seems to remember something, “there… there were those papers I dug up of Elias from before the institute, I remember I thought it was weird because his eye colour was listed as _blue_.”

“I have connected the dots!” Tim exclaims proudly.

“You didn’t connect shit!”

“Shhh, no, Mellie, I have connected them” he turns to Sasha, “so, now what?”

“Now we wait until we can relay this information to Jon and Martin, either next time any of us call them or when they get back, let’s try to see if we can dug up a bit more on exactly _how_ is Elias or _Jonah_ , I suppose, possessing the heads of the institute. Ah, but first, Melanie had some gossip she wanted to share!” she gestures at the other woman who is smiling smugly.

“Sasha, what did we say about gossiping?” Tim teases.

“It’s not me, it’s the Beholding!”

“And what did we say about blaming your snooping tendencies on the Eye?” he continues.

“Well, if you don’t want to hear…” Melanie teases back.

“No, no, I do, I do!”

“Alright” she sits back on the chair she is occupying, “as you both know I have my ways for finding out what rumours are going around our world…” is how she starts, the other two nod in agreement, “okay, so, I can’t wait to see Jon’s face when he hears about this one! Word has it on the streets that…”

* * *

**Saturday, June 2 nd, Scottish Highlands, 2018, 05:44 pm**

Martin walks away from the telephone box where he just finished a call with his grandmother; he knows these calls are not a replacement for his visits and he misses going over for tea and pastries, but hopefully it won’t be too long until they see each other again. He has already bought her a couple of poetry books that he thought she would like and he also bought some more gifts for his cousins and his uncles, uncles meaning Nathaniel and Peter, Elias isn’t getting anything from him.

They agreed on meeting on a nearby park when they were done, so he walks the short distance and spots Jon sitting on a bench, talking on the phone, he seems distracted so Martin decides to not announce himself, maybe do something silly like cover his eyes and say: _guess who?_

“…well, yeah, of course I miss you, when was the last time I saw you?” he hears Jon say, he sounds happy if somehow exasperated, “when are you coming to the UK? Oh, that’s great! Yeah, see you soon, then? Great, be seeing you, doll.”

“Talking to Annabelle?” Martin asks smiling as he sits down next to Jon.

“No, Amanda” Jon replies automatically and Martin’s face falls.

“ _Who_ ” Jon cocks an eyebrow and Martin realises exactly what tone he used, he blushes. “Uh… Forget it.”

“Is there something you want to talk about?” a hint of a chuckle in his words.

“No, I’m sorry, forget it.”

“Martin…, are you jealous?”

The redhead’s first reaction would have been to say _no_ , before stopping himself when he remembers Jon’s unusual ability to taste lies, so he just shakes his head.

“Whatever, it’s fine!” is what comes out of his mouth as he gets up from the bench and starts walking, Jon quickly following. “Even if I was it would be perfectly justified!”

“But you’re not” Jon may not realise that he is putting Martin in a difficult position at first, but after a few silent minutes he seems to realise and backtracks. “I think I’m going to go for fish and chips this time, you?”

“Alright, fine, yes, I am jealous” he admits, ignoring Jon’s attempt at a subject change, and it feels good to admit it, so he sighs with relief, “don’t ask me why because I _really_ don’t know… maybe it’s the way you talk to her? Or maybe that you called her _doll_ , I mean, you don’t call _me_ any nicknames…” communication is part of a healthy relationship, right? Then maybe if he can _communicate_ this feeling he has, maybe they can _talk_ and the feeling will _stop_.

“Can I call you angel?” The sudden question leaves him wordless; he blinks at Jon who smiles teasingly, “you can say no if you don’t like it.”

“No, it’s cute, I just… why angel?” Jon’s smile widens as he takes Martin’s hand, before kissing the back of it like the gentleman he is, the redhead is taken aback, given that they haven’t yet discussed anything about displays of affection while in public, he is all on board with it, of course, but he hadn’t take Jon for the kind to like such thing.

“It’s what you’re” he shrugs, “always there when I need you, always taking care of me, _protecting_ me, ergo, you’re a guardian angel, Martin, _my_ angel.”

“Ah… right.”

Look, Jon needs to start giving him _warnings_ before going full romantic mode on him; he can only take so much!

They go into the pub, filled with the sounds of chatter and soft music, and take a seat on a quiet and comfy corner booth, after they both have placed their orders and gotten their drinks, Martin a coke and Jon a beer, the latter pulls out the picture again and slides over to Martin.

“That’s the picture Cooper had, it was during the first Halloween Mum spent with us, and Amanda is the girl in the witch costume” Martin sees her now, a pretty young lady in a black dress and equally black pointy hat holding a broom, he can’t help but feel like he has seen her face before, but he is sure he hasn’t… has he? “Amanda should have left the year before Mum and Dad got engaged, the kids that stayed on our house left when they turned eighteen, but she didn’t, she had run away from home and had nowhere to go back to, she used to say that home was Hill Top Road, I don’t know the specifics but she didn’t have the best family life before landing with us. Dad welcomed her to stay as long as she needed; she took over household duties, and often helped my Mum when she was over. We always treated her as family, because, honestly? That’s what she is, we often joke with Anna that she is like our cousin or something.”

“Wow…” and now Martin feels bad for being jealous of her, in his defence, he can’t imagine people not being attracted to Jon. Do people not have eyes? Alright, alright, not all people have good taste, yes (case in point: his uncle Peter), but Jon is not only a looker, he is smart and charming too! When he complained about it to Sasha she agreed that Jon was cute, (though she said he was so while not scowling, which falsehood, his scowl is adorable) and then proceed to ask how heavy was the prescription of the rose-coloured glasses he wears for him to think Jon was _charming_ , but whatever, Sasha is missing a very important fact: the fact that she is wrong and he is right.

“She is Cooper’s sister.”

“I’m sorry, _what_?” he looks at the picture again, wait a second, well, if instead of the witch costume she was wearing a police uniform and her hair was dyed blond…, yeah, that’s why she seemed familiar!

“At first, I didn’t notice, they don’t look that much alike and Cooper is a fairly common surname, but then things started clicking into place when I saw the picture, I’m still not sure why did she try to kill me, though” he admits, “yeah, she and Mc Gregor may think I am a serial killer, but I am the only person that knows where Amanda is, she, uh, doesn’t go by Amanda Cooper anymore, it seems my parents made arrangements so she and Mark Ramos, another of the kids, were taken care of in case something happened to them, Amanda and Mark stayed more than most of the other kids, I’m still in contact with them both.”

“Mark Ramos?” Martin repeats, bewildered, “why do I know that name?”

“Oh, I don’t know” Jon shrugs with that smile that Martin knows means he is up to some mischief. “Was it maybe because he talked with one of the archival assistants of the Magnus Institute regarding a halfway house in Oxford? According to Tim he was _very_ concerned about Raymond’s kids, especially his son; he used to get into fights with the older kids, you know?”

Tim’s words, that seem to have been spoken _forever_ ago, ring through his mind: _“It kind of makes sense now, y’know?_ he asked Jon, who frowned in confusion _, “the guy I interviewed told me that he worried about you because you tended to mess with the older boys, and now I know why, you were doing to keep them from hurting Annabelle.”_

“Oh, my god… you… you arranged it?”

“Well, of course, the information was delicate and had to come at the right moment, since we were going to tell them about the entities it seemed like it was time. I was not expecting Sasha to compel me, but I guess it could have gone worse” Martin can only stare at him, mouth agape like a fish out of the water. “You seem surprised.”

Martin splutters for a second before managing to get his mouth to work.

“You’re evil, you’re full of schemes and you’re an evil mastermind.”

Jon smiles smugly, as he casually leans over the table and places a hand over Martin’s.

“Hm, maybe I am, but that doesn’t mean you like me any less, right?” if he didn’t know Jon, he would swear that just sounded like a tease, the fact that the spider also winked at him doesn’t help.

Martin is spared from answering when a waitress comes by with the food, Jon takes the opportunity to pocket the picture again and they set to enjoying their food, making small talk and listening to the music playing in the place, some couples are attempting to dance to the tune, but Jon doesn’t think is a song you can really dance to.

_You’re so cute when you’re slurring your speech, but they’re closing the bar and they want us to leave…_

After a while of seeing the couples dancing, he glances at Martin and considers asking him to dance, but takes a moment to think it through, a moment which ends with the spider deciding that first he needs to have some more alcohol in the shape of a double whisky on the rocks, while Martin has an ice cream. Like, the alcohol won’t make much difference, but he mostly wants to see his boyfriend’s reaction to the dancers, see if that’s what he wants, because Jon is actually very good at realising what it is that people want.

_I’m a war of head versus heart, and it’s always this way. My head is weak; my heart always speaks, before I know what it will say…_

When they finish and depart, the air outside the pub is cold blowing in the shape of a chilly breeze, so Jon wraps his jacket around himself, and Martin zips up his hoodie and places an arm around Jon’s shoulders, lowering a bit to whisper in his ear.

“Are you drunk enough to go break into a farm and pet the cows with me?”

* * *

**Sunday, June 3 rd, Scottish Highlands, 2018, 10:34 am**

Martin blinks when the bright morning sunlight hits him in the face, he groans, turning around and covering his body with the thick blankets. He hears Jon chuckling and the rustle of the curtains, when he peeks from beneath the covers he can see the room is slightly darker once more. Jon is sitting upright a book on his lap and a soft smile on his face, so he too sits up.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I…” he trails off and frowns, “Jon, did I really ask you last night to break into a farm with me?”

“You did, we went as far as parking near a fence, but then you said the fence was _too tall_ and we wouldn’t be able to hop over it, or more accurately, that _I_ wouldn’t be able to hop over the fence.”

“Yeah… I remember now, sorry about that. I should blame it on alcohol, you know, all the alcohol I did _not_ drink?” that takes a chuckle out of Jon.

“It’s fine, if you do want to pet cows that badly, I saw a sign for a petting farm when we were on the village.”

“Can we go?”

“Sure, anything you want” he shrugs with a smile, before the smile falls, “but we should do it soon, maybe today even? We need to start planning how we are going to deal with everything.”

“Oh… it’s- it’s fine, I know we technically are not on a real holiday, and that we have to… go back eventually…” he frowns, “can I take you on a real holiday one of these days? I think Uncle Nathaniel mentioned having a house in Paris that we could use?”

Jon doesn’t answers, just kisses him instead.

They go on with the little routine they had developed in the cabin, getting up for a later breakfast than they’re used to and arranging a few things. Lately this routine includes a lot more kisses and casual touches, which both consider a more than welcomed improvement. Jon finds himself reading a cooking book he found lying around of all things, not terribly interesting but the apple scones recipe seems worth a try, Martin is sitting next to him, his legs thrown over his lap. The redhead is writing things down on a notebook, probably poetry lines.

“Martin?” Jon asks, making the man in question lifts his eyes from the paper to stare at him. “Can you read me one of your poems?”

“What, why?”

“You don’t need to get defensive, you know? It was just a question.”

“It’s not _that_ … uh, well” he flips through the pages, “here is one, I wrote it forever ago, I think I did record it even, I’m uh… going to read you a bit of it” Jon smiles and gestures to prompt him to start, “alright” he clears his throat. “ _For all your skulking, slinking, sneering, for all that I was fearing; I was not expecting this: for you to step into the light and reveal yourself. I see you; I see the lamb you hide under the wolf’s skin..._ ”

“I really like it; do I know who the poem is for?” Martin grows bright red at that, and it makes Jon chuckle, before he gets serious again, “hey, I know I told you part of the plan, as in, what are we going to do once we get back to London, but I may have, um, _omitted_ how are we getting there, do you think you’re ready for that part?” Martin nods, if a bit shakily, Jon had only say that the journey wouldn’t be easy and even that it would be dangerous. “Alright, let me get a few papers…”

“I will make us some tea then.”

_Are we to speak, first day of the week? Stumbling words at the bar, beauty blue eyes, my order of fries, Long Island kindness and wine. Beloved of John, I get it all wrong, I read you for some kind of poem…_

Sooner than expected they both were sitting across each other on the coffee table with steaming mugs of tea, the papers strategically laid about the wooden surface and the music of Martin’s phone playing as some sort of background noise, which Jon is grateful for, he doesn’t think he could take the silence that has taken over between them. He stares at his papers and can’t help but consider how risky this move will be, but it’s the only way they can get into England completely unnoticed by Jonah, who Martin insists in calling _Elias_ because _he is the one who has to look at Peter on the face knowing who his husband really is_ , Jon didn’t really get it.

Now, Martin is biting his lips and twisting his hands over the table, avoiding his gaze.

_So can we pretend sweetly before the mystery ends? I am a man with a heart that offends with it’s lonely and greedy demands…_

“That’s a really nice song” he comments, not knowing what else to say.

“It reminds me of you” Martin shrugs.

_What can be said of my heart? If history speaks, the kiss on my cheek where there remains but a mark… Beloved my John, so I’ll carry on, counting my cards down to one…_

The conversation ends there, and the day continues on. Except that, unlike their usual routine, Martin goes out for a walk in the evening, citing that he didn’t have the opportunity to do so on the morning and _no, Jon_ , it has nothing to do with their afternoon conversation. Jon has noticed that Martin always seems… well, the way Martin looks after his walks reminds him a lot of the way his friends look after they had fed their gods, which doesn’t surprise him much, they’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by empty fog-blanketed fields and not far away from the sea, a more perfect place for servants of The Lonely there’s not.

The spider busies himself with cooking dinner, just a simple recipe that he knows his boyfriend actually likes a lot. He too has fed recently, mostly managing his _side job_ on London with his laptop, since there’s not much else to do from here.

As he stirs the pot of stew, his mind irremediably goes to this afternoon, is he asking Martin for too much? It will be hard, yes, but the whole situation is hard, he sighs, he could _change_ the plan slightly to make it more comfortable for him, but that would slow them down, no that it matters, he would do it for Martin.

The door opens with Martin announcing he is home and it makes him smile. The freckled man smiles as well, before coming where he is to wrap his arms around his waist and place a kiss on the top of his head.

“That smells amazing…” he compliments, “how long until it is ready?”

“Just a while, do you want to set the table?”

Dinner is spent in the couch, watching a movie on Jon’s laptop, it’s a clearly low budget sci-fi one called _Lavalantulas_ , in which what looked like the child of the Desolation and the Web threatens a small town in America, with Jon pointing out all the wrong things in it, starting how all the spiders that are probably wrongly called tarantulas should not have been able to stand the high temperatures of the volcano they emerged from, or how they all seem similar to each other (almost carbon copies) when it’s clearly not the case on how real tarantulas work.

Talking a night while lying in bed has become part of their routine as well, Martin loves how they can just spend _hours_ talking about nothing and everything, until they’re too tired or they had just ran out of things to say, but still neither wants to sleep. Tonight the theme of conversation is the approaching visit to the petting farm and the calls they made to their friends and family yesterday. Annabelle and Mike are somewhere down in Paris and she absolutely loves every second of it, they plan to go to Milan next, which she is very excited about.

“I forgot to tell you last night we all the, um, _partying_ we did…”

“Yeah, seems like we are getting old” Jon interrupts, the amusement present in his voice.

“Speak for yourself, now, anyways” Jon laughs, “oh, shut up, anyways, as I was saying, before being rudely interrupted, I talked with Natty and Micah, they were over at the manor when I called Nana, and guess what?” he lets the question hang in the air for a few seconds, before Jon hums, clearly interested, and prompting him to continue. “Micah told me that she heard a rumour that’s going around our secret little world, apparently is a rumour that says the Prince of the Lukas family has ran away with his lover who belongs to the Web.”

“ _No_ ” the other exclaims in disbelief, “for real? Wait, wait, wait… when I called Sasha earlier she asked if I have heard any rumours lately, _good Lord_ , are we really the last ones to find out about it?”

“Oh, don’t be like that! Think positively, maybe your sister hasn’t heard anything yet!”

They dissolve into laughter, until a comfortable silence settles between them.

“Did you think that we would end up like this when we met?”

Who would have thought that they would end up falling in love? True, Jon was, and there’s no sugar-coating it, a total prick for the first few months in which they worked together. The first time he berated Martin for incompetence, he apologised, the second time, he didn’t answer and the third time he berated him back. He would have hold back longer if it was Sasha, probably, but enough was enough. The next few weeks were chilly between them, but then Prentiss happened and their relationship changed once again, this time for the better.

“Not really, I was secretly trying to fit you in one of my charts, because I can’t have a loose variable, can I now?”

“Oh? Is that all that I am to you, Jon, _a loose variable_?” he asks jokingly but sounding half-serious.

“Never, you’re- you’re everything to me, Martin.”

And he can’t just not kiss Jon after saying such a sweet sentence, can he now?

It is not until they’ve run out of things to say that the clearly still fresh theme of conversation from the afternoon comes back again.

“Jon, I’m worried…” Martin admits in hushed tones as they cuddle together under the blankets.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“I mean, I know we have to, it’s pretty clear that it’s what must be done, but…” Jon can almost picture his boyfriend biting his lips in nervousness.

“Martin, I could find another way to get us into England; it would take some time, of course, as these things do-”

“ _Get us into England?_ ” he repeats, interrupting him, “oh, Jon, you thought-, that’s not it at all! I actually think it would even be a little bit fun? It sounds like out of a James Bond film! No, I’m… I’m worried about the hunters, what if they catch up with you when none of us are around to help and they hurt you again…” Martin trails off but Jon can feel the way he presses him closer to him, almost as if that way he could protect him from all the bad things that exist. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you…”

Jon smiles in the darkness of the room, before his hand travels from where it was resting in Martin’s shoulder to cradle his cheek; he brings him down to his level and presses their foreheads together.

“I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I have to show something, okay?” he gets up and turns on the lamp on the bedside table, Martin sees him walking out of the room and coming back a few moments later with one of the many folders he has brought with him. “Let’s just say Cooper and Mc Gregor are running a little errand for me, though they’re bit aware of it yet” he turns to smile at Martin, “everything will be fine, I promise.”

* * *

**Monday, June 11 th, Scottish Highlands, 2018, sometime before dawn**

“Last morning here…” Jon sighs against Martin’s shoulder when they both wake up that morning.

“Five more minutes?” the redhead requests sleepily, nuzzling Jon’s neck, “I don’t want to let go of you just yet…”

“Hm, fine, five more minutes, but not more, we have to be on schedule, remember?”

“Forget the schedule and stay here with me…”

“Don’t ask me that twice or I just might.”

“Hm, hey do you know what I was thinking last night?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbow and resting his cheek on his hand, Jon hums, imitating his posture. “Would you love me if I was a flesh hive?” Jon chuckles, lying back down on the bed, “no, really, Jon, would you?”

“Would you love _me_ if was Desolation or…, Mother forbid, _Beholding?”_

“Bold of you to assume my type is spider monster specifically” he teases, “you could be anything for all I care. My type says Jonathan Sims Fielding across it.”

“You flatter me” he chuckles, “now question, is this hypothetical Corruption you still… uh, still you?”

“I guess?”

“Then I don’t see why I would find you any less lovely than I do now.”

“Jon, you’re going to make me cry!” he complains, crumbling into the sheets and hiding his face in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck,

“Apologies, angel, I assure you that was not my intention…” it’s the answer he gets as Jon runs his fingers through his curls, god, Martin is sure he can fall asleep again just like this. He nuzzles Jon’s neck and wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. “Oh…” Jon murmurs, softly, that mere syllable overcome with emotion.

It takes a bit more to convince Martin to get out of bed after that, but once they do, they start the preparations for their departure. Princess is napping in the couch, but the door of her carrier has been left open for now and with her toys inside while they get everything ready. The morning is rushed, but it still seems like it can’t go slower.

“We still have some time before we have to leave for the port, do you want to take one last walk?” Jon suggests after staring out the window for a few moments, before offering his hand to Martin, who smiles sweetly and takes it.

They go outside then, carefully avoiding Princess’ notice because according to Martin she thinks she is an outdoor cat and loves darting out of unsupervised open doors. Martin starts telling him how excited he is to be seeing his family again and how he should invite Jon to the next family dinner party, because that is surely to piss off Elias. The air is a bit chilly, as expected, and the sky, previously sunny, it’s now covered in thick grey clouds, no doubt that they’re the warning of a coming storm.

“I think we should head back” Jon suggests, when the first roll of thunder echoes in the sky, “we’re not too far from the cabin, maybe we can make it before-” a thick raindrop hits the bridge of his nose before he can finish the sentence, followed by another and another… the spider groans. “I stand corrected, maybe we can make it before it really comes down…” he tugs Martin’s hand, but he doesn’t move. “Martin?” the redhead is left speechless when Jon turns to him, pulling his hair back and blinking back the raindrops that are now clumping his eyelashes together.

“Um… I wanted to ask you… I-, uh” he stumbles on his own words, but Jon seems to understand nonetheless because a smug smile takes over his features.

“You want to kiss me under the rain, don’t you?”

“…maybe so…”

“Alright” Martin finds completely adorable the fact that Jon has to stand on his tip-toes (and even then still not reach) to kiss him, he smiles as he leans down.

In the end, the light rain does not warrant a change of outfits, but it does warrant a change of jacket for Martin (not for Jon since he was wearing his leather one); the damp one is shoved into a plastic bag in one of their backpacks and forgotten on the trunk of the car. The rest has already been packed and, after Princess in her carrier, they’re ready to leave, the rain momentarily absent from the scene as Jon stares at the house after he locks up.

_Life’s alright in Devil town. Yeah, right, no one’s gonna catch us now. Dad has bought a new car now, we’re fine, no one’s gonna catch us now…_

He lets out a heavy sigh when he closes the car’s door after entering and Martin reaches over and takes his hand.

_Devil town is colder in the summertime, I’ll lose my mind at least another thousands times. Hold my hand tight, we’ll make it another night, I still get a little scared of something new, but I feel a little safer when I’m with you, falling doesn’t feel so bad when I know you’ve fallen this way too…_

“We got this.”

“Apparently so” he leans forward, tilting his chin up and at this point they know each other enough that Martin takes next to no time in leaning down and meeting him in the middle for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some much needed fluff after yesterday's episode <3
> 
> See you soon <3


End file.
